


Do You Promise Not to Tell?

by chamel



Series: Do You Want to Know a Secret? [2]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Angst and Feels, BAMF Cara Dune, Battle Couple, Canon Compliant, Clan of Three, Cold Weather, Corellia (Star Wars), Darksaber, Denial, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Feels, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Angst, Force Ghost Yoda (Star Wars), Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hoth (Star Wars), Injury Recovery, Jealousy, Jedi Luke Skywalker, Jedi Temple (Star Wars), Living Together, Loth-wolves - Freeform, Lothal, Mandalore, Mandalorian Culture, Marriage, Near Death Experiences, Oaths & Vows, POV Cara Dune, POV Din Djarin, Planet Dagobah (Star Wars), Planet Takodana (Star Wars), Post-Season/Series 01, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Snow and Ice, So Married, Star Wars: Rebels References, Strong Female Characters, The Purge Aftermath, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:28:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 87,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22115635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamel/pseuds/chamel
Summary: She didn’t expect him to be back so soon. Well, soon was a relative term. It had been three months since he’d left, but at that point she hadn’t really known if she would ever see him again. In the intervening months she’d been reasonably satisfied in her boring, if lucrative, job as Greef Karga’s enforcer, and anyway it sure beat running all the time.But she was restless, and there wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t wonder if she had made the right decision those months ago. He’d been welcoming, almost expecting her to stay with them. The armorer had said it herself: they were a clan of two. Besides, the idea was somewhat terrifying. Traveling with a man whose face she couldn’t see and his adopted, disgustingly cute child? That just seemed like more drama than she could handle. Especially when being around said man sometimes did weird things to her insides. Sometimes, when she was being particularly honest with herself, she admitted that she missed him.(Cara and Din join forces again, looking for the kid's people. What they find along the way is more than they bargained for.)
Relationships: Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV) & Baby Yoda, Cara Dune/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: Do You Want to Know a Secret? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591858
Comments: 341
Kudos: 638
Collections: Movies





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey CaraDin lovers!!! I just could not stay away from these guys. This is a sequel to the first but much longer and slower burn. 
> 
> Thank you SO SO much for all your comments on my last story! I read every single one of them and they keep me going! I'm so happy to know there are so many CaraDin lovers out there.
> 
> The work titles come from the Beatles' song "Do You Want to Know a Secret?"

She didn’t expect him to be back so soon. Well, soon was a relative term. It had been three months since he’d left, but at that point she hadn’t really known if she would ever see him again. In the intervening months she’d been reasonably satisfied in her boring, if lucrative, job as Greef Karga’s enforcer, and anyway it sure beat running all the time.

But she was restless, and there wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t wonder if she had made the right decision those months ago. He’d been welcoming, almost expecting her to stay with them. The armorer had said it herself: they were a clan of two. Besides, the idea was somewhat terrifying. Traveling with a man whose face she couldn’t see and his adopted, disgustingly cute child? That just seemed like more drama than she could handle. Especially when being around said man sometimes did weird things to her insides. Sometimes, when she was being particularly honest with herself, she admitted that she missed him.

The day he showed up she was sitting in her “office”—actually a shadowed booth at the back of Karga’s bar with a wide view of the room—with her feet propped on the table, nursing a glass of Tevraki whiskey. It was late and slow at the bar, and given that trouble was supremely unlikely at this point she was letting herself get a bit tipsy; not that she couldn’t beat anyone’s ass even in her current state. She absently toyed with a brightly-colored cloth in her hands, wrapping it around her fingers and feeling it’s smooth fabric against her skin.

She was looking down when the door to the bar opened and she heard a familiar cadence of footsteps. At first she thought she might have fallen asleep and been dreaming; after all, hadn’t she been thinking of him moments before? But then she looked up and saw his silhouette. The child waddled in after him. She had always been surprised at his willingness to take the kid to unsavory places, but then again she was pretty sure his ability to control the small being was tenuous at best.

“Mando!” Greef boomed, spreading his arms out wide in welcome. “I’m surprised to see you back so soon!”

“I am as well,” the Mandalorian replied, his voice even. He glanced around the room quickly, taking in the few other occupants. Cara wasn’t sure that he could see her, back in the dark corner, and he made no indication that he did.

Greef put his hands on his hips. “Need a job? I could probably find you something…”

“No,” Mando replied simply.

“In hot water? Putting a team together? I’m sure we could help,” Greef offered. Cara wondered if he would actually let the Mandalorian ever explain why he was actually here.

Mando shook his head and looked around the room again as if looking for someone. “Not exactly. We needed some supplies, and a few repairs to the ship. I was in the area and thought someplace with friendly faces would be best.”

“Of course, of course!” Greef replied. He snapped his fingers at a droid behind the bar. “What can I get for you and the little one? Food? Drink?”

“Just something simple, for the kid. I’ll eat later.” the Mandalorian said. He leaned down and picked up the kid, depositing him on a chair at a nearby table. Keeping his back to the wall, he sat down but didn’t relax. He scanned the room again, and Cara felt her curiosity pique. What or who was he looking for?

The droid deposited a plate of food with a glass of milk for the kid. “Can I get you something stronger, sir?”

Mando waved him off. “No, I’m fine.” The child burbled happily as it demolished the food in front it. “How are things here, Greef?”

“Oh, very good. Now that the Imps are gone things run smoothly. Business has been good. No trouble, Cara makes sure of that.”

Cara watched as the Mandalorian scanned the room a fourth time. “She’s still around, then?” he asked eventually.

The question put a butterfly in her belly. At once she was thankful for and regretted the drink in her hand. She threw the rest back and relished the burning sensation, chasing away the fluttering. Standing up, she walked into the light before she realized the blindfold he’d given her was still in her hand. She quickly shoved it into her pocket, hoping he hadn’t noticed. His attention had fixed on her the moment she’d emerged.

“Still here,” she confirmed, trying valiantly to keep the slur from her voice. “Didn’t expect to see you around.” She walked slowly toward his table, hoping it would come across as casual instead of inebriated. Apparently she had drunk more of the whiskey than she had thought. Her head swam slightly.

“Like I said, we were in the area,” he replied, his voice flat.

Cara wondered how true that statement was. Why in the universe would he be near Nevarro? It just didn’t seem likely. She now stood a few feet away from the table, leaning on the bar. “He seems good,” she said, nodding her head at the child.

Mando looked at the kid, who was currently licking the plate. “He is.” He stared up at her, and she stared back at him, seemingly locked in his gaze. Which was stupid because for all she knew he was looking at something behind her.

“Let me offer you a room,” Greef said to Mando, unwittingly breaking the trance. “On the house.”

The Mandalorian looked away from her and toward Karga, giving him a slight nod. Greef snapped at the droid again, but Cara interrupted.  
  
“I’ll take them up,” she offered, not knowing the words were coming out of her mouth until they did. What was she doing? She should be staying away from him; the more time she spent around him, the more she’d regret it when they left again. But she’d offered, and now she had to do it.

Mando stood up and picked the kid up, depositing him on the ground again. The child toddled toward Cara, and she reminded herself that she hated babies. He smiled up at her and she felt the carefully maintained ice around her heart melting. She turned and walked toward the stairs, not waiting to see if they were following her.

She arrived at a room she knew was empty and opened the door. When she turned he was right behind her, which shouldn’t have been a surprise, but his proximity was. She could almost smell him past the beskar. “Here ya go, let a droid know if you need anything,” she said quickly, attempting to duck around him and head back down the stairs.

He grabbed her arm, arresting her progress. “Cara, wait. I thought maybe we could talk?”

“Sure,” she answered, not looking at him. She felt lightheaded, but it must be the drink, right?

He let her go, and she looked toward the room. There wasn’t anywhere else they could talk in private. Well this wasn’t awkward at all; nope, no siree. He’d already turned and walked into the room, so she followed him reluctantly. She had, unwittingly, given him the large room with a double bed. After seeing where he slept on the Razor Crest she wasn’t sure he’d know what to do with all the space. The image of her sharing that bed with him flashed in her mind but she shoved it quickly away. She watched as he picked up the kid and put him down on a small cushioned seat in the window. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, leaving the single chair for her. Instead she stood as far away from him as she could, leaning against the wall with her hands crossed in front of her.

“So what did you want to talk about?” she asked. Her voice was becoming more sure and her head clearer by the minute, which certainly was for the best.

He looked away uncomfortably, as if now that he’d gotten her here he didn’t know what to say. “Cara, I…” he started, then shook his head. “How have you been?”

“Fine. Good,” she replied, shrugging. “Greef pays me well. It’s been quiet, though. Boring.”  
  
“Your reputation is getting around,” he said with a small laugh.

Cara gave a small smile. “Guess so.” She didn’t say anything more. Instead she stood in silence and waited for him; he wanted to talk to her, he should talk.

“We weren’t really near Nevarro,” he said, looking away from her again.

“I figured as much.”

He was staring at the child. “I need help. Not like, in a we’re-in-trouble way. Not all the time anyway.”

“I’m not a nanny,” she said flatly, reading into his statement.

He looked sharply at her. “I would never…”

She held up a hand, stopping him. “I know. Which is why I don’t know why you’re talking to me. You could be picking up Omera. She seemed like she would be into the galaxy-traveler schtick.”

“And you’re not,” he added. Was that a note of disappointment in his voice? Surely not.

“Mando, I…”

“Din,” he said, interrupting her. “I told you my name was Din.”

She looked at him curiously. “Yeah, when you were _dying_. You also said no one had used it in years. I didn’t think it was something you wanted out there.”  
  
“Not ‘out there,’” he said cryptically. He paused, then sighed. “It’s been years since I met anyone who I wanted to use it.”

“Oh,” she replied. She didn’t really know what to make of that, but it left her feeling lightheaded again. He was clearly waiting for her to continue her statement, but now she could hardly remember what she’d been about to say. She wiped her hands over her eyes. “Look, I gotta say I’m kinda drunk right now and I don’t think I should be having any serious conversations. Can this wait until tomorrow? Preferrably somewhere less… intimate than your room?”

“Of course.”

She pushed herself off the wall and moved toward the door. “Great. I’ll send a droid up with your food.”

After she left the room she was overcome with an intense urge to run away. Run away from this planet, from this system. It would be simpler. She could be on her own, like she always had been. There wouldn’t be any confusing feelings or mysterious men making her lightheaded. But she’d promised him they could talk tomorrow, so she’d talk. Maybe she’d run away after.

* * *

“I sure mucked that up, didn’t I?” Din asked the kid. He sat on his cushion, burbling as he chewed on a plastic disc. Where had he even gotten that? He realized it was a coaster from downstairs.

The window seat had curtains along it’s outer edge, so after Din made sure the window wasn’t able to be opened from the inside, he closed them, separating the child from him. Sitting back on the bed he kicked off his boots and removed his helmet, running a hand through his matted hair. Then he rubbed his face vigorously and leaned forward, leaving his head cradled in his hands until a knock at the door made him jump to his feet. He grabbed the helmet again and replaced it, but it was only the droid with his food. He took the proffered plate and shut the door.

As he ate he could hear the kid still cooing behind the curtain. This was all a mistake. They should have just stayed out there. He was getting by ok. Sure, there’d been a couple close scrapes, but it was easier if it was just the two of them.

He told himself that he wanted Cara to travel with them because he wanted a friend; someone to talk to who could talk back. Of course he’d never felt a need to have anyone around to talk to before this, save the odd chatty bounty, but he didn’t have a lot to talk about before. It would be nice to have someone to strategize with, someone he could trust. He enjoyed her company, that was all.

The large bed sat in front of him, challenging that assertion. He’d have to lie to himself to say that he hadn’t thought of sharing it with her when she first led him to the room, and Din didn’t like lying to himself. Clearly she wasn’t interested in him, though. If she was she would have gone with them when they left Nevarro.

Din wondered if it would be best to just leave again tonight, to avoid all this. But he’d come here, and she had said they would talk tomorrow, so he might as well say what he came to say. She would reject his offer and they’d leave again, no harm no foul. He ignored the dull ache he felt in his chest when he thought about never seeing her again.

* * *

When Cara arrived downstairs the next morning she _almost_ reflexively ordered a drink before she remembered the previous night’s conversation. Attempt at conversation. She was pretty sure she knew what Din had been asking her; she had asked for the delay more to think about things than anything else. The idea thrilled and terrified her. Hadn’t she just been moping about how boring her life was? Hadn’t she spent months second-guessing her decision to stay? And now here he was again, wanting her to travel with them.

What she was pretty sure of was that he wasn’t looking for a romantic relationship. Surely he’d be heading back to Omera for that, right? No, he clearly wanted a working partner. Someone who had his back in a shootout. And Cara wasn’t looking for romance either. So it was clearly a perfect opportunity: she doesn’t get bored, he gets the extra muscle he wants.

Just when she thought she’d made up her mind, she would flash back to the feel of his lips on hers and her heart would race. Something in her cried out _Danger! Danger!_ And not the kind she was used to. Maybe boring wasn’t so bad.

“So where did you have in mind?” Din said behind her as she leaned over the bar, head in her hands.

Cara jumped a mile, whipping around to face him. “What? Oh, right. Step into my office?” She gestured toward her booth in the back corner, dimly lit even in the morning sun.

He gave a small nod and followed her. She slid into her usual side and he sat opposite her, leaning forward with his elbows resting on the table, hands clasped in front of him.

“So?” she prompted when he didn’t immediately say anything. Not for the first time she cursed his helmet and how it made him impossible to read.

“I’d like it if you joined us,” he said directly, without any of the hesitation he’d had the previous night. “I get into tough spots. I could use help getting out.”

She pretended not to be interested. “Why don’t you get a droid?”

“You know how I feel about them. IG-11 was different.”

“Why me?” She wasn’t sure what she wanted as an answer to this question.

“I trust you,” he said simply. “You’re a friend.”

Cara huffed out a bit in a laugh. “And you think living in close proximity won’t change that?”  
  
Din tilted his head slightly, then shrugged as an answer.

“Greef won’t like it,” she said, aware that it was all but an agreement. Was she really doing this?

“Greef will get over it. He got by fine without you before.”

They were both silent for a minute, then Cara took a deep breath and stuck out her hand. Din grasped it and gave a short shake. She was really doing this.

* * *

He’d cleaned all the junk out of the spare bedroom on the Razor Crest before he even knew she would be coming. Maybe he’d been overly optimistic. He still wasn’t totally sure it was the right decision, to invite her on board, but if it didn’t work out they’d go their separate ways. Occasionally, thinking about her being on board, a strange giddy feeling would overcome him before he pulled himself back to reality. This was a working relationship. Friends, nothing more.

“Hey kid, where’s your pops?” he heard a voice say from below.

He was in the cockpit, fiddling with controls and plotting their next path. So she was here. Honestly he wasn’t sure she’d show even after their talk. Descending the ladder, he turned to see her standing next to the kid, a small duffle bag slung over her shoulder.

“How’d Greef take it?” he asked as she looked up at him.

Cara shrugged. “Poorly, but he understood. Said he was surprised I stayed in the first place.”

Din moved across the space and opened a door to a small room. “You can throw your stuff in here.”

Truth to be told, calling it a bedroom was a stretch, but it was a room and it had a rack for sleeping. He’d made sure she had her privacy, and he would have his. He’d already had to be more careful around the ship with the kid, so what was one more person?

Cara nodded, ducked into the room, then dropped her bag and came back out.

“It’s not much, but you should be able to lock the kid out,” Din said.

She raised an eyebrow at him, a smirk on her face. “And you?”

He flushed, and for not the first or last time he was glad of the helmet. “I’ll only come in if you want me to,” he shot back. Two could play these games.

There was a satisfyingly surprised look on her face. “Right, so where to next?” she said, changing the subject.


	2. Chapter 2

Cara awoke, as usual, with a weight on her stomach. She honestly had no idea how the kid got into her room every morning without fail no matter how securely she locked the door. It probably had to do with his magic… skills, or whatever they were. She cracked an eye and looked down at the small creature sitting on her abdomen. He chirped softly when he saw she was awake.

“You are _so_ lucky you’re cute,” she grumbled, closing her eye again.

She’d been on the Razor Crest for a month. Thus far it had been easier than she had feared. They’d fallen into an easy routine, and life on the ship ran pretty smoothly. They each had their quirks that took getting used to, but she was amazed to find how well they worked together.

After a few more moments there was a soft rap on her door. “Hey Cara? You awake?”

She groaned. Din was much more of a morning person than she was, and he’d taken to listening for the kid’s sounds as signal that she was awake. “What?” she asked, rubbing her bleary eyes.

“We’re nearing the Dagobah system. I’ve got no clue what we’ll find there, so we should be ready.”

Cara picked the child up off her stomach as she sat up. When she put him down he toddled toward the door and pushed it open. Din stood on the other side. This wasn’t a new happening; in fact, it happened most mornings, but somehow it always made her feel self concious even though she was fully clothed. Ignoring Din and the child she pulled on her armor and ran a hand through her unkempt hair. As she left the room she pulled the door shut behind her even though she knew it wouldn’t stay closed for long. The kid loved to take mid-day naps in her bed.

She noted, not for the first time, how the Mandalorian in front of her always looked put together in the morning. It had to be easy when all you needed to do was put a helmet on. He was looking at her with his head slightly tilted.  
  
“What?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Instead of answering he reached up and smoothed down an errant strand of hair that must have been out of place. It was an oddly intimate gesture, but these things no longer gave her butterflies or increased her heart rate. They just were.

“D’you even bother to comb your hair?” she said through half a yawn.

“If I didn’t it would become one giant mat,” he answered. For an instant she remembered snaking her fingers through his curls, but it was easier these days to push the thoughts away. Not that she didn’t have them; oh, they were there every day. But the friendship had grown and now more than ever she didn’t want to ruin it by throwing herself at him.

Din turned and headed up to the cockpit. She needed breakfast if she was going to go tromping around weird planets, so she made herself a bowl of grain mash and poured a cup of the hot caf Din had already made.

“Approaching the planet,” Din called from the cockpit. Slurping down the rest of her breakfast she left the dishes on the table and she picked up the kid. She was a pro at climbing the ladder with one hand now. Ahead of them loomed a planet completely surrounded by clouds and mist. As she sat in the small seat behind Din she held the child on her lap, bouncing her knee slightly. Things she did without thinking about now, that she would never have believed a month ago.

“So what’s supposed to be here?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I was reading about the Jedi recently and I came across a mention of this planet. Not a lot of information, though. I think it’s some kind of swamp.”

“Greaaaat,” Cara drawled.

The kid seemed quite interested in the planet in front of them, cooing and chirping loudly. Din turned back to look at him. “You know this place?”

The child gurgled in response. Cara shrugged.

They descended quickly through the clouds and fog; too quickly. The ship’s sensors had a hard time picking up the surface of the planet, and they almost hit water before Din managed to pull up the ship at the last minute. After a while they found a flattish area big enough to land. What they could see did not look promising.

It was indeed a jungle swamp, with more water than land and huge trees with partly submerged roots. A quick scan revealed some small animals but nothing sizeable.

“Seems like nothing’s here,” Cara said, stating the obvious.

“Well we should look around.” Din looked down at the child. “I don’t know if you should come. Might get sucked into the swamp.”  
  
The kid was clearly not pleased by this. He squirmed vigorously out of Cara’s hands and made his own way down the ladder. Din sighed and followed.  
  
“Well if you’re coming you’re staying in the carrier,” Cara heard him tell the kid.

They’d picked up another repulsor carrier and retrofitted it to be bullet-proof. As she descended the ladder Cara saw Din pick up the kid and place him inside it. He turned toward her.

“Ready?”  
  
She picked up a pair of blasters and a large knife, sheathing it in her hip holster. “As I’ll ever be.”

They walked down the ramp and he sealed it up behind them. Cara immediately wished her boots were more waterproof. They walked cautiously along the higher ground, scanning for signs of life. As they progressed, they got more and more bogged down, and the child became more and more agitated.

“There’s nothing but bogwings and sleens here,” Cara huffed, pulling her boot out of another sucking mud pit.

“Don’t forget the butcherbugs,” Din added, making her laugh despite herself.

“But seriously what are we hoping to find here?”

He shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. But the kid seems interested.”

“The kid’s not walking,” she complained.

“Let’s take a break” he suggested. “We can let him move around a bit.”

Cara sat down on a log immediately. “You’re chasing after him.”

In the end it wasn’t necessary. The kid walked around the small clearing, then sat on the ground. They watched as he lifted up his hand and picked up a rock from across the clearing. Again and again, stacking them like toys, but never touching them. The amount of exertion should have tired him out by now, but he seemed completely unfazed.

“What _is_ this place?” Cara said quietly. She was sitting near the water’s edge, her attention focused on the child. She never saw what grabbed her leg.

Once the swamp monster, or whatever it was, had dragged her halfway into the water she felt it’s sharp teeth close around her hip and upper thigh. She didn’t even have time to call out before she was pulled completely under, grabbing a desperate last breath. Another searing pain bloomed in her shoulder.

 _This is it_ , she thought, _this is how I go_. The position of the monster made it impossible for her to attack it, holding her steady by her left side. She pulled her knife but couldn’t manage to get the right angle to connect with the beast. Her lungs were burning, desperate for air.

Suddenly the monster stilled. She felt the jaws around her hip open, and the claws retract. She kicked feebly toward the surface but her injuries made it nigh impossible. Nevertheless she felt herself ascending rapidly as if pulled by an unseen force. She burst through the surface and into the air, hanging limply. Coughing and gasping, she pulled the thick, wet air of the swamp into her lungs. It felt as sweet as the coolest breeze.

Dimly she was aware of Din, in the water up to his waist, screaming her name. Then she lost conciousness, still hanging in the air just above the water’s surface.

* * *

Everything had happened so quickly. He’d been watching the kid play with rocks, wondering at the ease with which he move them, when there was a splash and Cara disappeared with hardly a sound. He lept up from his seat and ran toward the water’s edge, but there was little sign of where she had gone. He yelled her name, again and again, as if she would hear him under the water and simply pop back to the surface. Then everything stilled, and his heart dropped into his stomach.

In the back of his mind he realized the kid hadn’t been making any sounds. He whirled, fearing the worst—maybe the monster had killed Cara and had set it’s sights on the child—only to see the kid with it’s arm outstretched, a look of intense concentration on his face.

At that moment Cara erupted from the murky pool, coughing but alive. The water pouring off her body was bright red with her blood. He yelled her name again, half in relief, and splashed into the water toward her, uncaring of monsters. The child still held her above the water’s surface, so he grabbed her easily and held her close to him. She had lost conciousness, which was unsurprising with the amount of blood she was losing by the second.

He trudged out of the water as quickly as his soaking armor would let him. The kid was asleep in his carrier, apparently exhausted by the exertion even in this place. As he ran past he triggered the carrier to close and follow him back toward the Razor Crest. The ramp lowered automatically as he drew near and he struggled up it, weighed down by the water soaking his legs even beyond the water-logged dead weight of Cara.

Inside, he pushed the remains of breakfast off the common table, sending bowls and cups flying as he laid her down on it. Blood pooled down and collected around her body. The kid was still asleep: there’d be no magic healing today. Tearing open a med kit, he grabbed the reserve bacta, only for emergencies. Well if this wasn’t a fucking emergency he didn’t know what was.

He was breathing heavily from the exertion and the stress; he needed more air. Cara was unconcious, the kid locked in the carrier, so he tore his helmet off, then pulled off his gloves. Huge gashes marred Cara’s leg, hip, and shoulder, her clothes soaked with blood around them. He managed to pull the armor off her upper body, but there was no other way around it: her clothes had to be cut away along her left side. Grabbing a pair of shears he cut her pants all the way from her ankle to her hip, then along the left arm of her shirt and down to her waist.

The dark, thick blood had begun congealing but when he pulled away the fabric it gushed again in earnest. Quickly he wiped down the areas with antibiotic, then followed with a spray of bacta and a few strips of adhesive to temporarily close the wounds. He began methodically working to stitch them up, starting with the biggest gash. Once Cara flinched unconciously and he froze, thinking she was waking, but she stayed out. He was so focused on his task that he didn’t even really notice how intimate some of the areas were that he was stitching around her hip and thigh.

When he’d finished, he checked her vitals: her blood pressure and pulse were still so weak. Her face was pale and her lips turning blue. She’d lost a ton of blood. They were so far from any medical station where she could get a transfusion. He had to do _something_. Din knew that he was type O+ blood. Nearly the universal donor. The chances she was Rh negative were low enough: he had to take the chance.

Fumbling with buckles, he pulled the armor off his chest and left arm, yanking his undershirt up over his elbow. He pulled the transfusion tubing from the med kit and uncapped the needles. The veins in her arms were already distended—a byproduct of her slow heart rate—but he needed some kind of band to compress his own upper arm. He cast about the room, looking for something that would serve, when a bit of brightly colored fabric sticking out of Cara’s still-intact right pocket caught his eye. _The blindfold?_ He was shocked she still had it. He grabbed it, soaking wet from being submerged, and wrapped it around his bicep. Finally he got the other needle in his own arm, pulled the blindfold off, and watched for a moment as the blood began flowing toward her through the tubing.

Now there was nothing to do but wait. Cara could awaken at any time, so he grabbed his helmet with one hand and fixed it back on his head. He looked around briefly; the whole place was a wreck. He was not looking forward to cleaning it up.

* * *

When Cara woke up she didn’t immediately know where she was. Her vision was slightly fuzzy as she blinked rapidly and realized she was in the Razor Crest. Everything was quiet. She turned her head slightly and winced; she had a splitting headache. After a bit she became aware of Din, sitting in the chair beside her, his breathing shallow and even. He was asleep. Taking a deep breath she managed to prop herself up on her good arm to look at him. He was wearing his helmet but no armor on his upper body and one of his sleeves was pushed up. A narrow tube ran from his arm and she followed it with her gaze to her own arm.

“Shit,” she breathed, looking down at herself.

Her left side was pretty torn up. Large gashes, now stitched up, covered her lower leg, hip, and shoulder. She realized that she was still lying in something sticky, and after another beat, that it was her own blood. She looked back at Din. His front was stained with a dark liquid that she had originally just taken for swamp water, but no: it was blood. Just how much had she lost? Apparently enough to need a transfusion, she concluded, her eyes returning to the tubing connecting their arms. Grimacing, she yanked the needle from her arm, grabbed a wad of cotton from the demolished med kit, and pushed it against the injection site.

She shivered, and she looked down at herself again. Her pants and shirt had been cut away along her left side and peeled back, exposing underpants, bra, and lots of skin. Obviously it had been necessary, but she still felt oddly embarassed. Swinging her legs off the table she tried to drop the short distance to the floor but she was weaker than she thought. Her legs began crumpling beneath her, but then Din was up, grabbing her before she hit the ground.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” he scolded, putting his left shoulder under her right.

“M’fine,” Cara protested, but the slight slur in her speech belied that fact. She leaned heavily on him, clearly unable to stand on her own.

“You are definitely not fine. You need to sit.”

She shook her head weakly. “I’m all bloody.”

“Yeah, well so am I,” he replied, trying to maneouver her toward a chair. For someone so weak she made it difficult.

Cara wrinkled her nose as she looked down at his clothing again. “Sorry ‘bout your gear.”

He shook his head vehemently. “No way. I don’t care about that. You’re alive, that’s what matters.”

She suddenly became acutely aware of his hands on her bare skin. One was supporting her under her left arm, the other wrapped around her front and rested lightly on the top of her hip. They felt so warm against her cold skin. She looked up at him. His helmet was close to her face, and she had the sudden wild urge to kiss it. “Din,” she breathed, and then her eyes fluttered and everything went dark again.

* * *

Cara’s sudden dead weight caught him off guard and he almost couldn’t keep her upright. He felt weak himself, likely due to the fact that he’d given her a good amount of his own blood, but he was still in better shape than her. The needle and tube still dangling out of his left arm was doing nothing to help the situation. He managed to sit her down in a chair, then fell back into the one he’d jumped out of. He carefully removed the needle from his arm and grabbed a bit of cotton out of the med kit to stop the bleeding.

He looked over at her, half naked with her bloody, cut clothes hanging off her. She needed a shower—they both did—but even when she came to there was no way she’d be able to stand for any length of time. There was also no way he was going into the shower with her. The thought made his face hot inside his helmet. He shook his head, trying to chase away the image, and grabbed an electrolyte pack from the med kit. Removing his helmet, he swallowed it down in one long pull and sat for a while longer trying to figure out what to do. Eventually he replaced the helmet and got up to get a bucket and a sponge.

On the way by the carrier he opened it. The kid was awake but clearly groggy. He seemed ok, though. Din left the carrier open while he filled the bucket with water. Then he crouched next to Cara and began wiping the blood away. He began with her face, moving to her neck, shoulder, and arm. All were easy to access and thankfully not intimate. Moving to the side of her rib cage and her waist put a funny knot in his stomach, but he pushed it out of his mind. He was just cleaning a surface. A warm, smooth, shapely surface…

He huffed, shaking his head again. _Get it together, Din_ , he told himself. Deciding to skip her hip for the moment he moved down to her lower leg and worked his way up from there. Eventually there was no where else to go but her thigh and hip. He tried to keep his mind on negaball, or disintigration rifles, or blergs, or anything but the gorgeous woman in front of him.

He slid the sponge over her upper thigh, along the edge of her underwear. Her skin trembled under his touch, and he looked up at her sharply. She was awake again, for gods know how long. Just watching him. He froze, somewhat unsure of what to do.

“You know, if you wanted to give me a sponge bath you coulda just asked,” she said after a moment, a wry smile on her face.

Din felt his face get supremely hot. Carefully, he withdrew the sponge and rung it out into the bucket. “You’re welcome,” he said as gruffly as he could manage. He was too exhausted to try to come up with a witty comeback. He stood and grabbed the bucket, thankful that he had something to do to get him away from this situation.

By the time he’d returned, she was standing up just inside her room, struggling with one hand to remove the remains of her shirt. Without saying anything he walked over and grabbed the hem to help her pull it off. He knew it was likely to result in a suggestive remark, but he didn’t care. She needed help, he would give it.

To his surprise, she let him help without comment. Once the shirt was discarded, she reached down to push down the right side of her pants, sliding them over her hip. He stood there, unsure if he should help. _Great, now you’re just watching her undress_ , he chided himself and almost looked away in shame, but then she wobbled as she tried pushed the pants further down, losing her balance. He reached out and caught her by the waist, helping her down to sit on the bed.

The pant leg was stuck half way above her knee. Din took a deep, shuddery breath that he hoped she didn’t notice. His hands brushed her thigh as he took hold of the top of the pant leg. Slowly, he began pulling it down her thigh, his hands by necessity running along her skin. He heard her inhale sharply and looked up, but she was staring fixedly at the pant leg, refusing to meet his eyes. He pulled it down over her knee, then over the muscular curve of her calf to the bones of her ankle. He paused to remove her boots, and then finally pulled the pants off. She sat before him, unmoving, in only her bra and underwear, the gashes bright angry lines covering the skin of her left side. They were frozen in place, neither daring to even breathe, until finally he stood up and turned to leave the small room.

“Din,” she said softly after him. He stopped and turned half back to look at her. She was looking up at him now. “Thank you. For all of it.”

He nodded slightly, not trusting himself to speak. Then he turned again and closed the door behind him as he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all your comments!!


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning she did _not_ wake up with a weight on her stomach. Instead the kid sat on the bed by her side and cooed with obvious happiness when she awoke.

“Hey kid,” she mumbled, reaching up to pat him lightly on the back. “Never got to tell you thanks.”

The child responded by grinning at her. She closed her eyes again, waiting for the usual rap on the door and Din’s voice. Nothing came, though. Pushing herself into a sitting position, she rubbed her eyes. The bacta had done it’s job: her wounds were almost entirely healed by now. She was sore, but felt far stronger than she had.

Unbidden, thoughts of the sponge bath and Din slowly removing her clothing swam into her head. She shivered, in part because of the memory and in part because she was still mostly naked. Grabbing a fresh set of clothes, she stood and went to run her hand through her hair only to find it gunked up from the swamp water. She needed a real shower. Figuring that he’d already seen her like this, she left the room without putting on anything else.

The common area was still a wreck, and there was no sign of Din. Where was he? The idea that he could be sleeping in seemed incredible. When she approached the ship’s shower she figured it out: the water was running. This was also super unusual. Din never took more than the briefest of showers. She listened for a few minutes, fighting the irrational urge to join him. She knew it was impossible for multiple reasons.

Instead she returned to the common area and began picking up the miscellany strewn about the space. Dishes, med kit supplies, pieces of her clothing. Near the chair where Din had sat she came across the blindfold that had been in her pants pocket. How had it come out? Had he removed it? She stood with it clutched in her hands, unaware that the shower had stopped minutes earlier. The sound of Din clearing his throat behind her brought her out of her reverie. She whirled, still holding the blindfold, to see him standing behind her. He’d cleaned his armor and wore a fresh set of clothing beneath it.

“I needed a tourniquet,” he said. She looked at him blankly, so he pointed at the blindfold in her hands.

“Oh,” she said in reply, unable to come up with anything else to say.

“I was surprised you still had it.”

At that, Cara’s defensive humor kicked in. “Yeah, well, you know. You never know when you’re gonna meet another sexy Mandalorian. Pays to be prepared.”

“Another?” he replied in that tone of voice that she knew was accompanied by a smirk.

She felt her face get hot, and was suddenly aware that she was standing in front of him in only her underwear, despite her earlier confidence that he’d already seen her in it. “I, uh, need a shower,” she mumbled, pushing past him.

Cara made it a cold one.

* * *

Din was wiping down the table when Cara came out of the shower, dressed in new clothes and looking for all the galaxy that nothing had happened. Bacta really was miraculous, and worth the expense. She would have scars, of course, but at this point he probably felt worse from the loss of the blood he’d donated. That—and the exertion and stress—had certainly taken it’s toll on him, and he was moving sluggishly this morning.

“You look worse than I do,” Cara said, putting voice to his thoughts.

He huffed slightly, the sound barely audible. “Can’t imagine why.”

“Hey, how did you know our blood types were compatible?”

“I didn’t,” he replied simply. “I took the chance. It worked.” She seemed to accept this and he went back to wiping the table.

“You used all the emergency bacta,” she pointed out as she tried to put the med kit back together.

He shrugged. “It was an emergency.”

“What if we get into trouble and you or the kid need it? That’s a real emergency.”

He stopped and looked up at her. “You’re trying to tell me that I should have let you die?” His voice was strained. What was she on about?

“If it’s me or you or the kid, you need to choose you and the kid,” she replied stubbornly, not meeting his gaze.

“Well it’s a good thing I didn’t have to choose. We’re fine. You weren’t.” He did not want to be having this conversation.

Cara sighed. “Yeah well we’re at the edge of the galaxy with no more bacta so what then?” The irritation was obvious in her voice, but Din had no idea what to make of it. Why was she arguing with him about saving her life? None of it made sense.

“We’ll get more,” he said, pointing out the obvious.

“What if…”  
  
He interrupted her. “I don’t care about what ifs. I made the decision, I’d make the same one again.”

“Well it was a stupid decision!” she shot back, her voice getting louder. 

“I can’t lose you, Cara!” he shouted at her.

She was quiet then, staring at him. He wanted to look away, to hide. He felt exposed, like he wasn’t wearing his helmet. But he held her gaze.

“What?” she breathed, as if she hadn’t heard him yell it out.

Gods above, was she going to make him say it again? He took a deep breath. “I _can’t_ lose you. Yesterday… I had to imagine life without you, and it was too painful. So you saying I should let you die? It’s just never going to happen.”

It all came tumbling out of him, more than he intended. It was too much, surely she was going to run off at the next spaceport. Instead, she completely and utterly surprised him by walking over and grabbing him into a hug. For a moment he was frozen in disbelief, but then he let himself to relax into it.

“You know, armor doesn't make for very comfortable hugs.” He felt more than heard this statement as she mumbled it into his cowl, her face pressed into the space between his shoulder and helmet. The scent of her shampoo wafted up and filled his nostrils, sweet and spicy and a touch floral.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t realize this would be a hugging day,” he retorted.

She squeezed him tighter and chuckled into his neck. The vibrations made his chest feel tight.

The kid burbled next to them and Din stifled his disappointment as Cara pulled away to look down at the child. He was grinning at them broadly, apparently approving of this state of affairs.

“How’d you get up there all by yourself, huh?” Cara asked. The kid had made it up onto the table beside them, and silently at that.

“You have to ask, in this place?” The kid was holding his hands up now, clearly wanting to be picked up, so Din obliged him.

“Did we learn anything about this place other than it seems like it’s strong with the ‘force’ or whatever it is?”

Din shrugged. “Not really. I thought we’d take a bit of a spin around the planet before we left. A low flight, in the ship this time.”

Cara laughed, and Din marveled at the fact that she was able to be so cavalier about the fact that she almost died yesterday.

“Sounds good to me,” she said, “I’m a bit sore anyway.”

* * *

Cara had taken Din’s declaration in the spirit that it had been given. Well, she was pretty sure she had. He cared about her, that was clear. But if there was love, it was clear it was the kind of love you had for a good friend. If there was more, he would have surely said it, right? And the fact he’d been able to remain so detatched while giving her a sponge bath: that was proof right there he wasn’t attracted to her.

Which was fine with her. Totally fine. Of course it didn’t change the fact that she’d had dreams about him giving her much more than a sponge bath. Stupid brain.

Dagobah had been a bust. All they’d found was a long-abandoned hut, almost nothing left inside it. Though the kid seemed to like the strange planet, Cara was happy to be leaving it behind. She was doing well and was almost at full strength again, but her hip still ached in the mornings.

Now they were docked at the nearest spaceport, restocking the depleted med kit and other supplies they’d used up while out at the edge of the galaxy. Replacing the bacta had been painful, financially, and Cara couldn’t help but notice her accounts rapidly depleting now that she was no longer on Karga’s payroll. Before too long they were going to have to start taking jobs again to pay for all the food the kid blasted through every day.

It was evening now, and she needed a break from it all. More than that, Cara Dune had an itch that needed scratching. The kid was already sleeping and Din was puttering around the Razor Crest, tweaking things that didn’t really need tweaking. They wouldn’t miss her. She wasn’t the kind of girl with lots of clothes, but she did own one nice-ish shirt that showed off her assets. Pulling it on, she bothered to actually look in the mirror and comb her hair.

“Don’t wait up for me,” she called flippantly as she left the ship, not looking to see if Din had noticed her exit.

The bar was reasonably full, and it wasn’t long before she was surrounded by drinks from men who wanted into her pants. She was definitely looking for someone human, so that crossed off plenty of suitors right off the bat. Each one was not quite right. Too tall, too short, too skinny, too fat. She was reasonably drunk by the time she spotted a roguishly-handsome guy in tight pants and a loose vest with his feet up on a table. He had _not_ sent her a drink, which made him all the more attractive. She sauntered over to him, swinging her hips suggestively as she did.

“This seat taken?” she asked.

The guy looked up at her, then back down at his drink. “Nah.”

Cara took it as an invitation and slid into the seat opposite him. She leaned forward in way that always drove men crazy. “What’s your name?”

“Jaf,” he said simply. Not a talkative one, then. Well, so much the better. He eyed her chest appreciatively, so at least she wasn’t barking up the wrong tree.

“I’m Cara,” she offered. “You have a room here?” She didn’t have time or inclination for games.

He looked her up and down again, smirking now. “Why do I get the feeling that you’ll beat my ass into the ground if I say no?”

“Only if you ask nicely,” she replied with a wink and a wicked grin.

He kicked his feet off the table and stood up. “After you.”

The rooms were filthy, of course, but whatever. She wouldn’t be here long. As soon as the door was shut behind them she kissed him forcefully, pushing the vest off his shoulder. He returned in kind, and she let herself be pressed up against the wall.

Just when she was about to shove his pants down and get on with it, an memory flashed in her mind. Din’s lips on hers, the give and take. Suddenly the guy in front of her seemed to be kissing more sloppily than before, demanding, and just all around terrible. He moved to her neck and she felt the rasp of his stubble against her skin, but all she could think of was the feel of Din’s beard. The guy—she’d already forgotten his name—slid a hand up her shirt and she flashed to Din’s hands on her skin.

Then she was pushing him away and wiping her mouth. He looked at her, clearly confused. “Sorry, I can’t. I can’t,” she muttered, shaking her head.

Smoothing her shirt down she turned and fled the room. She didn’t know what had gotten into her, but this wasn’t working. She stomped out of the bar and back to the ship, her mood foul. She managed not to stomp up the ramp of the Razor Crest but only because she didn’t want to deal with a curious kid. Din sat in the common room, a bottle of liquor and a half-full glass on the table in front of him. Clearly he’d heard her coming because his helmet was back on even though he’d been drinking before.

“I thought you were staying out?” he muttered, quiet enough she almost didn’t hear him.

Cara swiped the bottle from the table as she stormed past. “Change of plans,” she growled.

She stalked into her room and closed the door, then flopped on her bed and tried to drown her thoughts in booze. Now she was even more riled up with no hope for release. Gods damn it, why did he have to be in her head?

Her dreams that night would have made a prostitute blush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't help but amp up the angst. ;)


	4. Chapter 4

Din would be lying if he said he wasn’t happy to see her back earlier than she planned, even if her mood was blacker than a sarlacc’s pit. He’d done a double take earlier when she’d breezed past wearing a revealing shirt and clearly one thing on her mind. He spent a while trying not to think about it, then trying to convince himself that he was fine with it, and then finally he just resorted to drinking. It was a rare occurance for him, but he kept a bottle on the ship, and he put a dent in it that night.

Now she’d taken the bottle, which was probably for the best for him at least, even if it might not be the best for her. He was drunker than he’d been in a long while, and it almost gave him the liquid courage to go knock on her door and talk to her. But if one thing had been made clear it was that she wasn’t interested in him that way, or else why would she be running off to find hookups? So he’d drank the rest of the booze in his glass and collapsed in his bed with his helmet still on.

The next morning he was awoken by a clattering from the common area. His head was pounding and his mouth dry. When he pulled off his helmet even the amount of light coming in from the small window was too bright. He took out a small mirror and looked at his face: bloodshot eyes and a strange impression on his cheek from the internals of his helmet. Thank the gods no one would be able to tell.

Replacing his helmet, he opened the door and stumbled out toward the small galley. He needed a hot cup of caf, stat. He found a pot waiting and the largest mug he owned, then made to head back to his room.

“Look who decided to join us,” Cara remarked as he walked back through the common area. She no doubt said this in a normal tone of voice but it seemed to him like she must have yelled it. The words rung inside his helmet, adding to the headache.

“You’re awake,” he replied groggily, dimly aware that it was a stupid thing to say.

She snorted. “Who do you think made the caf, genius? Are you ok? You’ve never slept this late.”

“I’m fine,” he replied, turning to retreat.

The caf did help beat back the headache. He wanted more, and there would be some, but with Cara awake he lacked the solitude to enjoy it sitting in the common area and not hiding in his room. _This is the way_ , he told himself. Everything he knew. He wasn’t going to abandon it for convenience.

Eventually he emerged again. Cara was cleaning a blaster, the kid beside her chewing on the butt of a sheathed knife.

“Should you really let him chew on that?” he asked, pausing briefly in front of them.

She shrugged. “Are you worried it’s going to be dangerous for him, or dangerous for us? Besides, you try taking it from him.”

“Fair point,” he conceded, and headed toward the galley.

“Note to self,” he heard her say behind him, a mocking tone in her voice, “Din Djarin gets hangovers really easily.”

Din grimaced. “I’m not hungover!” he lied. “And you have no idea how much I had to drink.”

“Not as much as I did,” she said quietly, possibly more to the kid than to him.

He filled his mug again and stared at it for a minute. Then he pulled his helmet off. No one could see him as long as they stayed out there and he stayed in here. “Don’t come in here, I’m not wearing my helmet,” he called to them.

“Just don’t drink all the caf,” Cara called back.

As he stood there, only a few feet separating him from Cara, he marveled at the trust he had in her. He never thought he’d get this way with anyone, really. She never told him to just give it up, she knew what it meant to him. That was part of the reason _she_ meant so much to him.

He finished his caf and put his helmet back for the day. He felt more himself now, even it if was a few hours later than usual. He poured Cara a fresh cup and walked out into the common area. She was just putting the gun back together. When she looked up at him, she grinned broadly so that her dimples dented her cheeks. It made his heart beat faster, but he knew her real delight was in the caf he carried.

“For me?? Maybe I like hungover Din.”

“As if I never do anything nice for you normally?” he asked, not entirely intending to. How did she always seem to make him say things he meant to stay in his head?

She smirked at him. “Well you certainly don’t bring me caf in the mornings.”

Din sat down at the table and the kid cooed at him, dropping the knife. “Did she feed you?” he asked.

“What do you think I am? Of course I fed him,” she retorted in mock indignation. After a beat she wrinkled her brow. “What does he eat?” He shook his head at her but she just burst out laughing. “Kidding! Kidding!”

“So where should we head next?” he asked, wondering if she had any new leads.

“Takodana,” she replied confidently, sipping her caf.

He tilted his head at her, not sure he heard her right. “Takodana? Haven of spies, smugglers, and fugitives?” She nodded. “What in the galaxy is on Takodana?”

“Who, not a what,” Cara corrected. “Someone named Maz Kanata.”

Din rolled his eyes behind his helmet. “I know Maz.”

“You do?” Cara looked surprised.

“Like I said, Takodana is a haven of fugitives. I’ve taken quite a few bounties there. Some Maz wasn’t so happy about.”

“Well, let’s hope she’s the forgiving type.”

* * *

The next morning, on their way to Takodana, Cara awoke as usual with the kid on her stomach. There was something different about this morning, though. Was that smell…? She opened her eyes to see a steaming mug of caf sitting on the small ledge near her bed. She looked back at the kid like he would explain, but of course she knew where it had come from. It had not been her intention when she’d ribbed Din about it the previous day, but she was going to enjoy it all the same.

Then it happened again, and again. Cara tried to make herself wake up early one morning to catch him in the act, but it was no good: she was too sleepy, and he was too sneaky. He never mentioned it, so neither did she. It had become her new favorite part of the morning, though.

“We’ll reach Takodana today,” he told her as she walked into the common area, mug of caf in hand.

“What’s the plan?”

He shrugged. “Kill time, I guess. I sent a message ahead requesting a meet but Maz likes to make people wait.”

“Kid coming with?” she asked, glancing toward the child who was currently inhaling a large hunk of food.

“He’ll stay covered in the carrier until we’re alone with Maz. I don’t trust anyone there.”

She raised an eyebrow. “But you trust Maz?”

“I do. I know it seems unlikely given our mutual history, but she’s a person of her word.”

Cara nodded slightly. “Should I be ready for a fight?”

“Let’s hope not,” he replied, shaking his head. “But it pays to be prepared.” He turned and climbed the ladder to the cockpit, no doubt to set the final trajectory.

So the blaster was coming with her. She regretted the loss of her knife, which was now at the bottom of some swamp on Dagobah. It had been the perfect size and weight for hand-to-hand fights were she needed deadly force. Her hip was stiff again, of course, so she decided to do some stretches in the common area. She stretched out her left leg and bent down over it, feeling the pull of the scar tissue around the joint.

There was a small sound behind her, barely audible. She would have assumed it was the kid, but he’d make more noise. Without straightening up she swung her body so that she was looking upside down and back through her spread legs. Din stood behind her, apparently staring at her backside.

“Enjoying the view?” she teased, grinning.

“More like wondering how I’m supposed to get prepared if you’re taking up all the space,” he retorted. Did his voice sound a little forced, or was she imagining things?

Cara stretched languidly, moving slowly from side to side. “Oh soooorrry, I’ll be done soon.”

Din sighed and leaned against the wall. She almost made another comment but the kid came waddling in underneath her, arms raised. She grabbed him and stood up, turning toward Din. Gods she wished she could read his face. Maybe he was smiling, maybe he was scowling. Who knew?

She handed him the kid and grabbed her armor, pulling it over her head and fastening the buckles. For his part, Din plopped the child in the carrier and walked over to his weapon cabinet. He grabbed a few small things and they disappeared into his armor seamlessly. A glint of silver caught her eye and she wandered over.

“That’s a nice knife,” she commented, picking it up off the hooks holding it.

He took it from her and put it back on the hooks. “Thanks. It’s mine. Don’t you have one?”

“Lost it in the swamp,” she explained wistfully. “Hope the monster likes it.”

Din made a soft sound that had to be a chuckle. “Maybe you can get one on Takodana. There’s a pretty good weaponsmith there.”

“Probably overpriced, out here in the Western Reaches,” she replied with a shrug.

“Suit yourself.” He turned and headed back up into the cockpit.

This time she followed and watched as he set the Razor Crest down outisde the main town. The jungle was pretty dense here, but she could see a reasonable path leading away from the clearing where they’d landed. She wondered how many times he’d been there before.

After they’d left the ship and closed the ramp, Din turned to her. “Maz won’t show up for another hour at least. I’ve gotta pick something up. Keep an eye on the kid?”  
  
Cara’s eyes dropped to the sealed carrier. Easy enough, when they had to keep him shut in and away from prying eyes. “We’re meeting in the cantina?”

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“See you there, then.”

They walked silently through the thick jungle until the outskirts of the town, then Din broke away and headed off down a side street. Cara watched him for a minute, wondering what he was getting, before heading off toward the cantina, carrier in tow. Maz’s bar was reasonably nice, although the clientele in it ran the gamut. Steering the carrier away from some of it’s more unsavory patrons, she settled at one end of the bar that had a view of most of the room. She ordered a drink, but just the one; she needed to keep her wits about her. Time seemed to crawl. Cara was not the best at waiting.

* * *

The cantina was much the same as it had always been. Din scanned the room for Cara and eventually found her at the bar; he had to admit, the ex-rebel shock trooper fit in well here. It was a place people came to disappear. He took the stool next to her, glancing down at her drink. Somehow she noticed the small movement.

“Don’t worry, still nursing the first one,” she told him. “Get what you needed?”  
  
He nodded. “I did.” He didn’t elaborate.

“Oooh, secrets,” she teased. He gave a small laugh and, judging by the look of satisfaction on her face, she heard it over the low hum of the noisy bar.

They sat in silence then, keeping their association quiet. There was no telling who might be in the cantina: another bounty hunter, or worse. It was best if no one knew they were traveling together. The bartender came by but Din sent him away; it was times like this that he wished he could easily have a drink with other people around. People watching was only interesting for so long. At first he didn’t even notice when the woman slid onto the seat on his other side.

“That certainly is a shiny set of armor you got there,” she said in a sultry voice as she leaned toward him.

Din looked at her. She was petite, with long blonde hair that pooled on her shoulders. The tight, red dress that she wore had a low cut neckline and left little to the imagination. She was grinning at him broadly.

“Uh, thanks,” he replied, looking back across the bar again.

“My name’s Mel, what’s yours?” she pressed, leaning hard on the bar.

“You can call me Mando.”

She seemed delighted by this answer. “Oooh, Mando. You’re a _real_ Mandalorian?”

“I am.”

She giggled. “I’ve never met a real Mandalorian before!”

Din sighed inaudibly. He knew when he was being hit on. It surprised him how much it happened, but he guessed some women just had a thing for a man in armor. She was cute, and a year ago he would have returned her flirting without hesitation. Not that he had a special thing for women like this, but a man had needs. So many things were different now. He looked down at the timepiece on his arm. It would be a while still until Maz appeared, he knew.

The bartender wandered over again, noticing the woman. “Can I get you something, miss?”

Mel looked at Din expectantly. Well, what harm would do? “Whatever she wants,” he told the barman.

She ordered some fruity concoction, as Din knew she would. They all did. Out of the corner of his visor he noticed Cara on his other side flag down the bartender and order another whiskey. Didn’t she say she was sticking to one?

Bolstered by the drink, Mel chatted at Din for a while. He let her, adding a few phrases here and there when necessary; it was something to pass the time, and fortunately she was happy talking about herself. She’d grown up on Naboo, and now she was a singer. She was singing in a club nearby later, maybe he wanted to come? He begged off, but she wasn’t deterred.

“I need to go powder my nose,” she announced, slipping off the stool next to him. Then she leaned against him and whispered, “maybe we can go somewhere private when I get back.”

If it was a question she didn’t wait for an answer. She slunk off, swinging her hips enticingly. Or what he might have found enticing some other time, now it just left him cold. He shook his head and was about to turn toward Cara and make some sarcastic comment about desperate women when he heard her glass slam on the bar and she pushed away, storming off. What had gotten into her?

* * *

Cara couldn’t believe he’d be listening to that drivel. Every word wound her tighter and tighter, and she’d put back way more drinks than she had planned in an attempt to tune them out. It hadn’t worked. She knew she shouldn’t care, that he wasn’t hers. It didn’t change the fact that she did care, though.

When the girl had left Din’s side she’d made a decision. Possibly one she’d regret. Slamming her glass on the bar, Cara walked the other way around the room and flanked the other woman as she headed toward the back hallway leading to the restrooms.

“You should reconsider going back to the bar,” she said menacingly, looming out from around a corner.

The girl stopped short, giving her a confused look. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”  
  
“No, but you’re about to know my fist if you don’t find someone else to hit on tonight,” Cara growled.

To her surprise, the other girl laughed. “Oh, did you think you had some kind of dibs because you were sitting next to him first? You weren’t even talking. I don’t think you’re his type.”

Cara could feel the anger rising in her. She knew she should control herself. Take a deep breath. Walk away. It was easier said than done. “Last warning,” she said through gritted teeth.

“What do you care about him, anyway? I bet he’s not even a real Mandalorian,” the girl taunted. “I’ll have him screaming so hard tonight he’ll rip that stupid helmet right off.”

Cara decked her and she dropped like a stone. It felt immensely satisfying until she realized the whole bar had gone quiet. Then Din was there, bending down to help the girl off the floor. She felt a cold lump in the pit of her stomach at the sight.

“Cara, what the hell?!” he yelled as the girl stood, clinging to him.

Blood was dripping from her nose and Cara hoped it was broken. She was grinning triumphantly past the blood, knowning that the Mandalorian couldn’t see her face from where he stood.

Cara lurched toward her, and now Din let go of the girl to hold back Cara instead. “She deserved it!” she protested. “She was tryin’ to…”

“I _know_ what she was trying to do,” he hissed, his voice low, “what I don’t know is what you think you’re doing.”

She didn’t have an answer to that, and she didn’t get a chance to come up with one. The doors at the end of the hallway opened and a small, wizened woman walked out, glaring at all of them.

“I don’t appreciate brawls in my bar,” she said cooly, arms crossed in front of her.

Din turned to face her. “She’s with me, Maz.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Maz scowled. “Business has been good to you, Mando. A full suit of beskar armor? Have you come to take one of my friends again?”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “Maz, we need your help.”

“Well you have a funny way of showing it. C’mon, then, if you can keep your companion from breaking any more noses.” She turned around and walked back through the doors.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Din said quietly to Cara before he let her arm go. The carrier zoomed to his side as he walked down the hall and Cara followed, unsure of exactly what had just happened.

* * *

The room Maz led them into was simply furnished, with a single large desk and a couple of chairs. The walls, however, were lined with shelves and filled with books and trinkets that she had acquired from the far reaches of the galaxy. Din watched out of the corner of his eye as Cara stared in amazement at them.

Maz seated herself behind the desk, which dwarfed her even further, and gestured for them to sit in the chairs across from her. Leaning forward on her elbows, she clasped her hands in front of her and looked at them suspiciously.

“So what brings the great Mandalorian bounty hunter and a former rebel shock trooper to little old Maz, looking for help?” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Din rolled his eyes beneath his helmet. “Not a what. A who.” He swept his hand toward the still-closed carrier that floated next to him.

Maz looked from him to the carrier and back again, her curiosity clearly piqued. “Is that a baby?”

“Something like that,” he replied. He tapped a button and the lid slid open revealing the kid inside, looking around curiously.

The old woman looked at him in shock. “Where in the galaxy did you get him?”

“Arvala-7, but that’s not where he came from,” Din explained. “I need to reunite him with his people, but we don’t know where they are. We were hoping you did.”

Maz shook her head slowly. “I do not,” she said.

Din sighed in disappointment. Another wasted trip.

“I don’t think anyone does,” Maz continued, surprising him.

“Someone has to know,” Cara said, speaking up for the first time.

Maz turned her shrewd gaze on Cara. “Young lady, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life, it’s that there are, in fact, things that no one knows.”

“He had to come from somewhere,” Din pressed.

Maz sat back in her chair, looking thoughtful. “I have heard of another like him, but he has been dead for years. I’m afraid he is likely the only one in this galaxy.”

“So you’re saying he might be from a different galaxy?” Cara asked incredulously.

Maz spread her hands out and shrugged. “Who knows?”

This was terrible news. Travel beyond the galaxy was all but impossible. Din shook his head. “What about these ‘jedi’ then? The Armorer said he belonged to that race, and they live in this galaxy.”

“The Jedi are not a race,” Maz explained. “It is a way of life. It is true the one I spoke of previously was a Jedi, but this little one is not Jedi until he has undergone the training.”

“But he can move things with his mind,” Din replied.

Maz looked impressed, but not surprised. “The Force is strong with him. Perhaps it is with all his kind.” She was quiet for a minute, thinking. “It’s true that the Jedi may know more of his history.”

“Where can we find them?” Cara asked.

“That I also cannot tell you. There is but one Jedi left, though he is training others. The location of the temple is a secret, as it must be.”

“That’s just great,” Din replied sarcastically. “So how do people find it to join them?”  
  
Maz shrugged. “He finds you. But there may be clues, if you know where to look. There’s an old rebel base on Hoth. I’ve heard stories that Master Skywalker had an important vision there. Perhaps there is something to the planet.”

Cara groaned. “I hate ice planets.”

Din ignored her and stood up. “Thank you, Maz.”

“You may find nothing, you know,” she warned, looking again at the kid. “I think you should be prepared for the possibility that you are the only family this one has.”

Din looked down at the kid, who cooed and grinned up at him. Sometimes he wondered how much the child understood. Despite the fact that he’d been trusted to return the kid to his people, despite the fact he was in no way prepared raise a child, despite what the Armorer had said about the child not being strong enough, something within him didn’t want to find his people.

* * *

“Before you say anything, I’m sorry about the whole punching thing,” Cara announced as the ramp closed behind them. “It was stupid and impulsive, and I shouldn’t have done it.”

Cara wanted to head this off. Now that she had sobered up she was a bit mortified about how she had acted, even if the girl had deserved it. Din was looking at her, and she wondered what was going through his head.

“What were you thinking?” he asked eventually. He didn’t sound angry or upset; he almost sounded curious.

She shrugged one shoulder. “I wasn’t? I just kind of acted on impulse. She was bad news.”

He sighed. “I thought you trusted me,” he said, sounding pained.

“I do! Of course I do! You didn’t hear what she was saying. Din, she was bragging about unmasking you,” Cara tried to explain. This was not going how she thought the conversation would go.

“You may find this hard to believe, but I protected myself just fine for years before you were around to do it, Cara.”

She flinched involuntarily. Why didn’t he get that she was just looking out for him? Like friends do? “It’s just… you were buying her drinks…”

“So you can go off and sleep with someone, but I’m not allowed to even talk with a girl to kill time in a bar?” he accused.  
  
“That’s not what happened—I didn’t! I couldn’t!” she protested, her eyes widening.

“ _You_ couldn’t find anyone? I find that hard to believe.”

She shook her head. “No, I couldn’t go through with it! Because I…I…” she trailed off. _Because I’m in love with you_ , something inside of her said. Oh gods, it was true. She really had fallen completely in love with him. This was a problem.

“Because what?” he pressed.

“I don’t know,” she answered lamely. He would know she was lying, she could feel it. But she just couldn’t tell him. Strong as she was, she was not strong enough to face his rejection.

Din looked at the ground. “Look, Cara. I get it.”

“You do?” she asked, unable to keep a hitch from her voice. What exactly did he get…?

He nodded. “We’re partners, we look out for other. But maybe it would be best if we ignored each other’s… romantic… pursuits.”

“Right, of course,” she gulped. There was an awkward pause, and then she faked a yawn. “Well, I’m beat, see you in the morning.”  
  
She didn’t wait for a reply. As she closed her door behind her she leaned back on it, sighing. This was bad. Really bad. There was only one thing she could do now. Living like this would drive her insane. She had to leave.

* * *

Din was awakened by a clattering in the common area. The kid had probably knocked something down; he was the only one who would be awake this early. Then there was a _clunk_. What was he getting up to now? Din sat up and pulled his helmet on. He wore the light clothing he slept in as he padded through the door on bare feet.

To his shock, Cara was up and dressed, wearing her armor. She turned as he entered and gave him a half-smile. “Sorry, did I wake you?”  
  
“What’s going on?” he asked, shaking his head to try to clear the sleep from his mind.

He looked for the kid and saw him standing near Cara’s door, looking as confused as Din was. Cara didn’t answer, so he looked back. He saw the soft sided bag that she’d showed up with at the ship months ago, but now it was filled again, sitting on the table near her.  
  
“Cara, what’s going on?” he asked again, unable to keep the strain from his voice.

She took a deep breath and looked at him. “I think it would be best if we parted ways,” she said matter-of-factly.

The words hit Din like a ton of bricks. “What are you talking about?” he managed, try to keep his voice from breaking. “Is this about last night?”

“No,” she answered, but he wasn’t sure that he believed her. “It’s just—I’m not sure that this is working. Don’t you think you would get around better without me?” she asked. Her face was a mask, not showing any emotion.

“No!” he practically shouted. He took a step toward her. “Cara, I—we need you.”

“You said it yourself, you did fine before I was around.”

Din flinched at having his own words thrown back at him. “That’s not what I meant…”

The kid had apparently figured out what was going on, because he had toddled over to her feet. He grabbed her leg and pulled on it, his ears pinned down by his sides and a look of anguish on his face as he shook his head. Din certainly appreciated the effort. Cara looked down at him, then took a deep breath and looked back to what she had been packing.

“You can’t leave,” Din said, finally finding his voice again.

She looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. “Why?”

“You said you’re not sure this is working. Well I am. It works. We’re a great team, and I’m not sure how you don’t see that. If I said something or did something that’s making you think otherwise, I’m sorry. You can’t leave because… because my life is better with you in it,” he answered, making himself say it. “Because you’re important to me, dammit.”

She stared at him, her face impossible to read. She might as well have been wearing a Mandalorian helmet.

“Cara, please.” It was little more than a whisper, but still audible beyond the helmet.

She reached down and picked up the kid, holding him in one arm. He immediately threw his arms around her neck and hugged her tight, burying his face against her neck. When she looked at Din again her eyes were glittering with unshed tears. She nodded, and quietly said, “Ok. Ok, I’ll stay.”

Without thinking he closed the gap between them and gathered both Cara and the child in his arms. The kid raised his head to look at him, smiling widely now. Cara wrapped her free arm around Din as she pressed her cheek against the side of his helmet. They stood there in each other’s arms, the child cooing softly. Relief flooded through him, and all he could think about is how perfect this felt.

“You just don’t want to go to Hoth alone,” she said eventually, her voice ringing in his helmet.

Din gave a short laugh. “Do you blame me?”

“Not at all,” she replied quietly, shaking her head against his as she held onto him tightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo much angst but I promise there is payoff coming soon!!


	5. Chapter 5

Hoth glittered below them as they flew over the surface toward the coordinates for Echo Base. Cara had to admit that it was pretty from up here, but she knew it would be a miserable day. She looked over to where they kid sat playing with the metal ball of the hyperdrive shaft. He couldn’t come with them, so who knew what he would get up to in the ship while they were gone. As Din began lowering the Razor Crest she caught sight of the entrance to the caves. Broken gun towers lined the area in front of it, hinting at the previous occupation. In the intervening years snow had fallen and blown into the area, blanketing the remaining equipment; the old shield generators just barely peeked out of the drifts. She wondered what they'd find inside the old base.

Cara descended the ladder from the cockpit while Din set the ship to go on full lockdown while they were away. Grabbing a thick sweater she hadn’t worn in years, she pulled it on over her armor. They’d picked up some heavy coats at a nearby spaceport, but they were cheap and Cara didn’t really trust them to keep her unfrozen. She was checking her blasters when Din appeared down the ladder.

“Expecting trouble?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Pays to be prepared. No ice monster’s gonna get _me_ , that’s for sure.” She grinned at her joke, and somehow she knew he was smiling back.

He turned and opened a drawer, removing a long, thin, leather-wrapped parcel. “You should bring this,” he said, holding it out to her.

“What is it?” she asked, eyeing it with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

He pushed his hand toward her again. “Open it. It’s for you.”

Cara accepted the proffered parcel, now regarding Din with a measure of suspicion. What was this all about? Carefully, she pulled one of the strings holding it closed and the wrapping fell open on one side, revealing a hilt. Her eyes widened and she looked up at him for some kind of explanation, but he seemed to be just waiting for her to continue. She peeled back the remaining flaps of the wrapping to reveal a knife, similar in size and shape to the one she’d lost. The detailing on the hilt and sheath were intricate yet subtle, a geometric pattern worked in fine silver filigree. It was clearly far more valuable than anything she’d ever owned before. Letting the wrapping fall, she gingerly picked it up and removed the sheath, then gasped. The metal of the blade rippled and shone as if lit by some inner fire.

“I can’t accept this,” she protested, thinking that it must be some heirloom. She sheathed it and tried to hand it to him.

Din put up his hands and pushed it back toward her. “It’s yours. I got it on Takodana for you.”

“What?” she asked. She couldn’t have possibly heard him right. He had bought this… for her?

“You said you lost yours in the swamp. I figured you could use a new one,” he replied simply, as if he just picked up any old beater knife. “Is it too ornate? I tried to pick out one that was your style. If you don’t like it…”

“No!” she cut him off, clutching the knife to her chest almost without thinking. “No, I–I love it. But I don’t know how I’m going to repay you…”

To her surprise, he laughed. “It’s a gift, Cara. You don’t repay someone for a gift.”

“Oh,” she replied, swallowing hard. It hit her that he’d bought this for her and then she had immediately acted like a child in the bar. And then she was going to leave him because she couldn’t deal with her own feelings. She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve him. But she didn’t say it; she knew he’d just argue with her. “Thank you,” she said instead.

Din nodded his head toward her. “Use it well.”

Cara affixed the knife to her hip—she almost thought about not bringing it, keeping it somewhere safe, but she knew that he wouldn’t allow it—and looked back at him. He had grabbed the two coats and held one out to her.

“You’re wearing the beskar?” she asked as he zipped it up over his armor.

“Of course. You know how I feel about it,” he replied, tilting his head at her.

She did know. Knew that he felt naked without it, even beyond the helmet. Knew how important the armor was to the Mandalorians. But this wasn’t most planets. “It will suck up the cold like a wick,” she explained. He appeared unmoved. “At least put on another layer underneath.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said definitively, slinging his rifle over the bulky coat. “I’ve been to ice planets before.”

“Not like Hoth,” she muttered under her breath.

The kid had climbed the table again and burbled at them curiously. “Don’t get into trouble,” Din said brusquely as he passed.

Cara stopped and patted the kid on the head. He cooed happily in response. “Listen to your dad, huh? No raves while we’re gone.”

When the ramp lowered the icy wind shot up into the ship, biting immediately through Cara’s layers. She pulled the hood over her head and fastened the flaps around her neck and face. Din, she noticed, did not. She would argue with him, but she knew she wouldn’t get anywhere. She sighed. This was going to be _miserable_.

* * *

They entered into a large hangar, remnants of ship maintenance still strewn about. Even though they were out of the wind the air was still icy cold and made breathing difficult. The walls were carved right out of the ice, suffusing the interior with a strange glow. Din couldn’t imagine actually living in this environment, but he supposed there probably had been some heating that was no longer functional.

Cara led the way down a hall at the far end of the hangar, moving confidently as if she knew where she was going. In reality they didn’t know what they were looking for here; Maz had said go to Hoth, so they went. Now that they were here, it seemed pretty hopeless that they would actually find any clue to the whereabouts of the Jedi. Maybe it was some kind of terrible joke as payback for taking bounties on Takodana those years ago.

The hall led to a medical center, empty beds still lined up along the walls. The fleeing rebels had apparently grabbed their medical supplies on the way out; cabinets hung open, and little was left on the shelves. They moved quickly, not lingering too long in any one area. They passed a few empty rooms, with little evidence of what had been their purpose before. When they found the command center they paused briefly, but the computers had been destroyed, blaster holes punching clean through them.

“What are we even going to find here?” Cara asked as she kicked the remains of a computer tower, putting voice to his fears.

Din shook his head. “I don’t know. Let’s keep moving.”

They passed through what had to be an animal containment area—the smell of manure still lingering even years after they were gone—and emerged into a small hangar. Wind blew into the open entrance at the opposite end, sending snow drifts piling along the walls. Cara wandered near the snow banks, kicking over bits of trash and fragments of ships long gone.

Din watched her out of the corner of his eye. His mind was only half on the task at hand. The other part of him was thinking about Cara’s threat of leaving, and what it had done to him. He had known she meant a lot to him, but in that moment he suddenly understood how much. Never before had he let someone in like this—into his life, into his heart. It was as terrifying as it was exhilarating. He watched as she kicked over another piece of junk and wondered what she would think if she could hear his thoughts. Then, as if she could, she looked up at him with an expression that was almost a smirk. He saw the snow bank behind her shift slightly and frowned beneath his helmet, but before he could say anything there was a roar and it exploded, showering her with the white powder.

“CARA!” he yelled, though she didn’t need his warning. He was halfway across the hangar, too far for his rifle to be useful, and the disturbed snow in the air obscured his view of what was going on. He took off at a run.

When he got nearer he saw the wampa looming over her, snarling and taking swipes with its long arms. He unslung his rifle and aimed, but before he could shoot both her blasters fired and the beast collapsed onto her. Still holding the rifle, he yelled her name and took off again, closing the remaining distance between them. As he arrived the wampa moved.

“Ugh!” she groaned as she pushed the heavy corpse off of herself. “That thing stinks.”

He bent down and grabbed her arm to help her stand, but she didn’t need his help. To his immense relief she looked entirely uninjured. The wampa had not fared as well. He looked down at the corpse and saw a blaster hole in the middle of it’s forehead.

“Nice shot,” he said with admiration.

Cara grinned. “Told you no ice monster was gonna get me.” She holstered one of her blasters but kept the other in hand. “Shall we continue?”

Din nodded, and they began traversing the space again. At the far end, an elevator stood, now rendered useless by the lack of power. A bit more searching revealed a small spiral staircase cut into the ice. With no better place to go, they climbed the stairs. They led to a door back outside and onto the roof of the base.

Cara clearly was not interested in going back outside just yet. She turned back to him at the top. “There’s not gonna be anything out there.”

“We should check anyway. It won’t be long,” he answered.

She sighed and pushed the door open. The icy wind blasted them immediately, seeming to steal any heat they had remaining out of their bodies. The roof was pretty empty, as she had guessed it would be. Defunct machinery loomed out of the snow that had almost blanketed it. Ropes lined the edge that had once been used to prevent people from falling, but the snow had drifted high enough that all but the top lines were covered. Din decided he’d walk the perimeter, but immediately regretted it. The wind howled around him and he shivered involuntarily. This was stupid; what did he think they going to find on the roof, anyway?

Too late, he realized that the edge he was walking on was no longer solid. The drifted snow suddenly gave way beneath him, carrying him forward over the edge of the roof. As the snow cascaded down, carrying him with it, it destablized the slope of snow that had drifted up against the side of the compound. He managed to stay upright somehow, the snow covering him to his waist. Eventually the mass of snow slowed and ground to a halt near the bottom. Breathing a sigh of relief, he twisted his upper body to look back where he had come from. He barely had time to see the avalanche of snow bearing down on him before it hit him hard, and he saw stars as his head was slammed back inside his helmet. Then everything went white.

* * *

“DIN! DIN!” Cara screamed, looking down the snowy slope. She’d been on the other side of the roof when the edge had given way and he had just… disappeared. The rest of the edge threatened to slide again so she tread carefully. There was no sign of him, but he had to be down there. Cursing, she pulled out the scanner from her pack. It was frozen solid but miraculously it turned on. She swept it over the snow in front of her desperately.

Finally, the scanner picked up a weak signal. Near the bottom of the slope, a few feet under the snow. Ever so carefully she inched over the edge, praying it wouldn’t give way. It didn’t, but she sank up to her knees in the freshly turned snow. She had to move down the slope much slower than she would have preferred to avoid starting another slide. The scanner beeped at her faintly, all she had to hold onto in the endless whiteness.

When she reached the area above him she stashed the scanner back in the pack. She had nothing to dig with but her hands. Her gloves rapidly became clumped with the snow, and the wind seemed to blow more into the hole she was digging than she could remove. Her entire body felt numb. But steadily she worked downward, until, amazingly, her hand brushed one arm of his coat.

The sight of it renewed her energy. She dug rapidly, clearing away the snow until she uncovered most of his body. He wasn’t moving, and she prayed he was only unconcious and not dead. Grabbing his jacket she pulled hard, but his body barely budged. It didn’t make sense, there was almost nothing covering him now. She worked down along his legs until she finally found the problem: a rope from the roof had tangled around his leg, holding him tight. She pulled at it, but it was taught, probably trapped by the rubble beneath him. Reflexively she grabbed the knife at her waist. It’s blade shone bright in the harsh cold light, glowing as if it were enchanted. It sliced through the rope like it was nothing.

Finally, he was free from the slope. She paused and pulled off her glove with her teeth, then stuck it up under his helmet, feeling for a pulse. His skin was icy cold, even in comparsion to her own frozen hand, but it was there: a sluggish, weak pulse. Shoving her glove back on, she looked across the snowy field to the Razor Crest. So close, but yet so far away. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed him by the coat’s hood and began dragging him across the snow. Trudging through the snow, the distance seemed endless. She almost didn’t believe it when she arrived and the ramp lowered.

Cara swore as she hauled his unconcious body up the ramp. The cold had sucked any remaining energy out of her body, but she fought on, unwilling to give up. She staggered into the common area and closed the ramp behind them, sealing out the bitter wind. She felt her cheeks get hot and painful in the warmth of the ship as the blood flowed back into her skin. Laying Din down on the floor was about as good as she could do at that moment. She struggled out of her heavy coat then pulled Din’s off of him and set to work trying to remove his armor. Her stiff fingers fumbled against the buckles, but eventually she got all the plates off. She pulled off his gloves and grabbed his hands, but they were like ice.

“C’mon Din,” she hissed, shaking him slightly. She felt for his pulse again, and her heart felt like it had stopped until she felt the sluggish beat. “Don’t you do this to me. Don’t you dare.”

He was clearly hypothermic. She hadn’t told him that she had been deployed to Hoth—once, only briefly, to pick up some supplies for a drop—and that she’d been given cold survival training as a result. She had hoped that it would be irrelevant. Unfortunately it was painfully relevant now. The ship didn’t have any kind of tub, so that was out. There was really only one thing to do, one thing to save him. Grabbing him by the collar, she hauled him into her room and put him into her small bed. Pants came off easily enough. She had to think a minute about the shirt. Closing her eyes, she removed his helmet and managed to peel off his shirt and cowl. Then she positioned him so he was facing the wall in the bed and turned to remove her own clothing, leaving them both in their underwear. There was no time for prudishness; he needed her body heat.

She climbed into the bed behind him and pressed her body against his. He was so, so cold. She opened her eyes, then, and stared for a moment at the back of his head. So his hair _was_ dark. Pulling her warmest blanket over them both, she wrapped her arm around him and pressed her face into the top of his back, shivering involuntarily. She was so focused on his survival the reality of what she was doing barely occured to her. All that mattered now was that he live. This had to work. It had to.

* * *

When he woke up he didn’t immediately know where he was. He was staring at a wall, which wasn’t unusual, but it wasn’t the same wall that he knew so well. He blinked his eyes a few times, trying to chase the sleep away. Slowly, he became aware that there was a warm body pressed against his and an arm draped over his bare waist. He could hear Cara’s soft, steady breathing behind his head.

He tried to remember how he’d gotten here, but couldn’t. The last thing he did remember was being covered in snow, hardly able to tell which way was up. Cara must have brought him back here, and he must have been hypothermic. And now they were here in her bed, both wearing nothing but their underwear. As he was thinking he heard a sharp inhale behind him: she was awake.

“Hi,” he said, unable to come up with anything else to say.

“I didn’t see your face,” she said immediately. She tried to pull her arm back off his waist, but he caught her hand with one of his, interweaving their fingers together.

“I know,” he replied quietly. Somehow he knew it was true, even though there was no way he could. He gave her hand a small squeeze and she squeezed his back. “Thank you.”

He felt a warmth growing deep within him that didn’t come from her body heat. He never wanted this to end. He had the sudden, irrational desire to turn and kiss her, but he chased the thought away. She had done this to save him, there was no way he could take advantage of it. Then Cara was disentangling her fingers from his and standing up, letting a rush of cold air into the space she’d vacated.

“Fuck, it’s cold,” she swore. He heard her pick something up and put it on the bed next to him. “Here’s your helmet. I’ll turn around while you put it on.”

Din turned to see her back facing him, hugging herself tightly against the cold in her underwear. He wanted to tell her to get back in the bed, that they’d be warmer together, but instead reluctantly sat up and pulled the helmet on, shivering as he did. The metal was bitterly cold, and the cushions within only did so much. “Ok,” he said.

Cara turned back to him and grabbed the blanket in one quick motion, wrapping it around herself and leaving Din exposed to the cold air. She laughed, maybe at how ridiculous he looked wearing nothing but underwear and a helmet. All he could think about was how drop dead gorgeous she was standing there, hair tousled from sleep, eyes sparkling, blanket wrapped around her in a way that was utterly, indescribably sexy.

"Aren't you cold?” she asked, looking at him with one eyebrow cocked.

“Yeah, well, you stole the blanket and I have no idea where my clothes are,” he shot back.

Cara glanced about the small room until she located his pants and shirt, which were apparently under her own clothes. Slipping one arm out of the blanket she grabbed them and threw them at him. They hit his helmet and chest, dropping into his lap. She giggled again and he smiled to himself under the helmet.

Din was not really a shy guy, but getting dressed with an audience was definitely not something he was used to. And Cara was definitely watching as he stood and bent over to put on his pants. He felt his face get hot.

“Enjoying the view?” he asked. Turn about was fair play, after all.

Her cheeks turned gratifyingly pink as she realized she’d been caught. “What if I am?”

Din missed getting his second foot in the pant leg and stumbled forward. Did he hear her right? On the second try he managed to get his foot in properly. He stood up and turned to face her as he fastened his pants, shirt still thrown over one arm. A very cheeky grin graced her face.

“Is that what you’re wearing today?” he asked, nodding at the blanket still wrapped around her.

She shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll go back to bed. Someone tired me out last night.”

“Oh? Who was the lucky person?”

“Just some guy I dug out of the snow. You know how it goes.”

“Of course. Well in that case I’ll let you get back to it.”

“Don't forget to make the caf!” she called after him as he left the room.


	6. Chapter 6

It was cold in the ship. Considerably less cold than it was outside, of course, but the bitter chill of Hoth had a way of getting in through the best seals. The hot caf only did so much. She could tell the kid was feeling it too; he was spending all day wrapped in a blanket pile on one of the benches, refusing to come out. It was not enough to sway Din, though.

“Are you insane?” she asked after he suggested going back out there.

“We didn’t get to search the rest of the base,” he argued.

“So what? There’s nothing there.”

Din shrugged. “You don’t have to go.”  
  
“Are you kidding me? Last time you almost died!” she replied, eyes wide.

“I won’t wear the beskar this time.” He had dug a sweater out of who knows where and now wore it, as if it would have saved him last time. Apparently he was going and would not be convinced otherwise because he was already pulling on his coat again.

Cara huffed and set down her mug. “FINE. If you’re going, I’m coming with you.”

She could swear he was smiling under that damn helmet. She grabbed her sweater and coat, bundling up once again. She had never really felt warm—not since she had left the bed that morning that is—so she was dreading this. The kid was making confused noises from his blanket pile.

“You got me, kid,” Cara said to him, shaking her head. “We’ll be back soon, I promise.”

The wind had not dissapated overnight, and immediately cut her to the bone, stealing away the meager warmth she had. They practically ran to the shelter of the hangar this time. Inside she directed them to the left. They’d dash through the rest of this miserable abandoned place and he’d see there was nothing here of use. Then maybe they could leave this gods forsaken planet for once and all.

Turning a corner, they found the living quarters. Rooms lined the hall with lists of names on their doors. Cara looked at them absently as they walked, then stopped dead when she saw one that looked familiar.

“Hey, didn’t Maz call that Jedi ‘Master Skywalker’?” she called to Din, who was already halfway down the hall.

He turned and walked back toward her, stopping outside the door. She gestured to the name on the plate: _Skywalker, L._

“She did,” he confirmed, then pushed the door open and walked inside.

Bunk beds lined one wall, with labeled cubbies opposite. Most of the bins belonging to them were strewn about the room, further evidence of the rapid departure the rebels had made. Skywalker’s was in place, though. Surely it couldn’t be this easy?

When Din pulled the bin out, it was empty. Of course it was. Cara sighed. He moved to replace the bin, even though it didn’t really matter, and a flash of white in one corner caught her eye.

“Hold on,” she said, taking the bin from him and prying the object out of the seam of the bin. It was a piece of paper. She opened it and held it out for Din to read as well.

_Kadavo_

_Lah’mu_

_Comra_

_Lothal_

“Planets? Are these other rebel strongholds?” Din asked her.

Cara shook her head. “Not that I’ve heard. Do you think… could these be places Skywalker is hiding out? They’re all pretty far out, right?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he replied, shrugging. “They’re all in the outer rim territories.”

“Ok, let’s get out of here,” she urged, ready to be back on the ship. “It’s more than I thought we’d find, that’s for sure.”

To her gratification, he followed as she turned and walked back down the hall and toward the hangar they’d entered. She started thinking about the relative warmth of the ship, and what she would do when she got inside. Maybe take a hot shower, but then she’d have wet hair. Perhaps she’d just wrap herself in blankets like the kid. He had the right idea. Of course there was one way she’d be guaranteed to be warm, but that wasn’t going to happen again.

The kid hadn’t moved since they left, but he wasn’t asleep either. After she shed her coat Cara walked over to him and sat down on the bench, wondering if she could finagle one of the blankets away from him. She thought not.

“Whadya say kid, wanna visit Kadavo?” she asked, rubbing the top of his head. He seemed disinterested, and Cara thought he was probably grumpy from the cold. She couldn’t blame him: she was pretty grumpy from the cold, too.

“All these are pretty far away,” Din said, looking at the paper again. He had pulled up a chair near where Cara and the kid sat. “Might need to take a job to pay for the fuel we’ll need.”

“Stop by Nevarro?” she suggested. “Greef can probably find us something.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, nodding. He was quiet for a moment, as if he was thinking. “You could take off there, if you wanted. Work for Greef again.”

Cara had been about to leave only days ago, but now the thought left a knot in the pit of her stomach. She could tell from his voice that he hated the idea, so she didn’t know why he was suggesting it. Didn’t they go through this already? Did he think she still wanted to leave?

“What, are you trying to get rid of me now?” she replied with forced levity, but the joke fell flat. She saw him stiffen. “Joking!” she added quickly, “I’m joking. I want to stay. I can’t imagine how boring my life would be without you two in it.”

He relaxed a bit, but still looked on edge. “You weren’t so sure a few days ago.”

“Temporary moment of insanity, I promise.”

“Good,” he replied, the tension finally leaving his shoulders.

For a little while they sat in silence. The kid had fallen asleep, and Cara watched him for a bit. He looked so peaceful. She was suddenly struck by how much she cared about this weird little green creature. How had that happened?

“Well, I’m gonna hit the sack,” she said as she stood. It was late, she was tired. Bed should sound good right now, but for some reason she didn't really want to go. No—she knew why. Because that bed wouldn’t have him in it. Sleeping next to him, their bodies pressed together… it had changed everything, and she didn't want to go back.

“Yeah, sounds good,” he replied. He stood up, but didn't go anywhere. They both stood there for a few moments, as if each was waiting for the other to say something to change the fact they were each going to their own beds. But neither of them did. Cara turned, breaking the tension, and retreated to her room.

She climbed into her bed and pulled the blanket up high, hoping for warmth, but it was no good. The bed felt cold below her, the blanket cold on top. She couldn’t sleep. Minutes ticked by and she wondered when exhaustion would finally take over. It refused. She lay on her side facing the wall, so she heard rather than saw the door to her room open. Somehow she knew not to look.

“Cara?” he said quietly, his voice clear and unmodified by the helmet.

“I’m awake,” she replied.

He stood there in her doorway, apparently unable to ask what she guessed he wanted. She scooted forward, leaving a space on the other side of the narrow mattress. Without saying anything he climbed into the bed behind her, curling his body against hers. She felt his warm breath against her neck as he slipped his top arm over her waist, just as she had held him the night before. They were both wearing clothing this time, but she felt the increase in warmth immediately. At first she wondered if she was going to be able to sleep now, with him here, but exhaustion finally won and she slipped to sleep almost immediately, feeling a contentment she hadn’t felt in a long time.

She was surprised he was still there when she woke in the morning. For one, he was almost always up earlier than her. Then there was the voice inside her head said he’d be gone because he’d just come to share warmth. But he was awake, and still holding her close, which was currently making her feel extra warm. By now he must know she was awake, but she didn’t say anything, not wanting to spoil the moment. He shifted slightly and she prepared herself for his departure, but instead he swept her hair to the side. Then, ever so softly, she felt him kiss the back of her neck.

It sent chills down her spine and she shivered involuntarily, which was completely at odds with how warm she felt. Did that really just happen? Was she dreaming? But in her dreams he wouldn’t have stiffened and froze at her reaction, as she felt him do now. He’d clearly misinterpreted it, and she had to fix that—fast. Grabbing the hand that was still draped over her, she laced her fingers through it, then raised it to her lips and kissed his knuckles. It was about all she could do from this position. She felt him relax again, exhaling a breath he’d apparently been holding.

“I think that blindfold is around here somewhere,” she quipped, smirking to herself as she stared at the wall.

“I trust you,” he said softly.

The significance of those three little words hit her like a bantha. Everyone always got hung up on those other ones, but this? Coming from him, this meant everything. Her chest was tight with anticipation as she let her eyelids fall and turned over to face him. She knew their faces were only inches apart, but he made no immediate movements. Her hand had come to rest on his upper arm and she slid it upward to his neck, cradling her fingers behind it and rubbing her thumb slowly along his jawline. His hand, still resting on her waist, pulled her body even closer to his, if that was even possible. Her heart was pounding and she thought he must feel it. Then, finally, he moved his head the last few inches toward her and their lips met.

If Cara thought she had remembered how she had felt during that first kiss, all those months ago, she was wrong. Or rather, it was those intervening months, and the way her feelings had grown in them, that had changed everything. She felt like her heart was going to burst out of her chest. The kiss was softer this time, but it had an edge as if he was trying to hold back and not rush it. His lips moved against hers slowly, languidly, maddeningly restrained.

She had no such restraint. She slid her hand up behind his head, threading her fingers through his hair and pulling his mouth against hers harder. He responded in kind, deepening the kiss. His tongue slipped into her mouth, tangling with hers. She grabbed his lower lip in her teeth and raked it slowly, eliciting a moan from deep in his throat. His hand gripped her hip tight enough to bruise, belying his show of control.

Both of them were breathing hard when their lips finally parted. Cara’s impulse was to open her eyes and gaze on the face of her partner, but she stopped herself. Instead she ran her hand over his face, tracing out the smile as it dented his cheeks and wrinkled the sides of his eyes. He was grinning widely, and it made her heart soar.

“Cara, I—” he started, but she put a finger over his lips, silencing him. Whatever he was going to say, he could say it later. She just wanted to enjoy this moment, a moment she never thought would actually happen.

She kissed him softly this time, as restrained as he had tried to be at first. Then shepushed him over so that he was lying on his back and shimmied slightly down the bed so that she could slide up under his arm and use his shoulder as a pillow. He wrapped his arms around her and she reveled in the feel of it. She opened her eyes then and stared off across the room, listening to his heartbeat. She thought it was probably running a bit fast.

“I finally figured out why you wanted me to stay,” she said after a while.

“Oh?” he replied, the curiosity obvious in his voice.

She grinned to herself. “You just wanted a bed heater.”

“Is that it?”

“Must be.”

She felt him kiss the top of her head. “Well, you do make a good heater.” After a few beats, he spoke again. “Wait, so why _were_ you leaving?”

Suddenly she felt utterly ridiculous. How had she been so blind? She had almost thrown this all away. “Well, uh, I realized I…” she swallowed hard, “I couldn’t take being around if you didn’t have these… _feelings_ for me too.”

His arms tightened around her, as if she would try to leave again. “So instead of saying anything, you were just going to leave?” His voice sounded strained.

“I didn’t say it was a good idea,” she said defensively. “Look, I’m not good at talking about feelings. And _you_ said that we should ignore each other’s romantic pursuits, what am I supposed to think?”  
  
Din sighed. “That was me being an idiot. Some lame attempt at self-preservation. I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t think you felt that way about me.”

“I decked a girl who was hitting on you. That wasn’t a clue?” she said wryly.

“Picking up on things like that is not something I’ve ever claimed to be good at.”

“Mmmm, what else _are_ you good at?” she asked as she walked her fingers over his stomach.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he answered, an unmistakable mischevious note in his voice.

Smiling, she closed her eyes again and tipped her face upward. “You know I would,” she whispered.

He kissed her tenderly at first, but the intensity picked up as each of them pushed the other further. One of his hands cupped her jaw, thumb tracing little circles on her cheek. Cara slipped her hand under his shirt and ran it along his abdomen, enjoying the feel of his skin. She almost didn’t hear the door open.  
  
Breaking away from the kiss, she hissed, “Din, the kid!”

She felt him turn toward the wall and slide down the bed, pulling the covers over his head. Once she was sure he was hidden she opened her eyes to see the kid climbing the blanket up to the bed. As he reached the top he launched himself onto the mattress.

“Oof!” Din groaned from beneath the blanket as the child landed on him.

Cara laughed and the kid looked around, confused. She sat up and grabbed the green creature off Din, hugging him close.

“My helmet’s just on the ground here,” the voice from below the covers said, making the kid look around for the source, even more confused.

She rotated the child so that he was facing the wall and made sure he couldn’t look around. “Let’s look this way while your dad puts his face on, yeah?” she whispered to him.

She felt Din emerge from the blanket and lean down over the side of the bed. After a few moments he put his hand on her arm. She turned back to him, grinning like an idiot, but she couldn’t help it. When the kid saw that Din was—from his perspective—suddenly in the bed with them he squealed in delight, wriggling out of Cara’s arms and jumping onto him. The force of it pushed Din back down to the bed and he laughed, holding the kid on his chest. Cara let herself lie down on her side again next to Din and the child found the small gap between them, wedging himself into it. He looked up at them, giggling, his face upside down and ears flopping back onto them.

She couldn’t believe this moment was real, that it was actually happening and not a dream. This was not something that people like her ever got to have. Abruptly she wondered if Din was having similar thoughts. She looked at him and he put his hand on her arm, giving it a little squeeze as if to ensure she was really there, or maybe to reassure her that this was, in fact, real. Maybe both. She smiled at him, and she knew he was smiling back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I gave myself a cavity writing that last part. Sickeningly sweet! XD
> 
> hope you enjoyed this chapter! Your comments make me so happy and keep me going!


	7. Chapter 7

Din had a conflicted relationship with Nevarro. In a way it had served as a home base for him for many years, in as much as someone like him had a home base. He felt a kinship with the Mandalorian covert there, despite the disagreements he’d had with some of them in the past. They were all of one tribe, and the closest thing to a family that he had.

Then, everything had changed. Of course Nevarro was safe again, free from the Imps, but it would never be the same. He couldn’t shake the intense guilt he felt over the destruction of the covert and the deaths of so many of his kin. He’d avoided the covert entirely when he’d returned for Cara, but he could not do so this time. He needed advice. When they’d landed he sent Cara on to Karga’s cantina with the kid, claiming some part of his armor needed a repair. It was a lame excuse—beskar was not known for its ability to be damaged—but she accepted it anyway and let him go without comment. He ducked into the secret entrance to the sewers, not knowing what he’d find.

In many was, it was almost as if nothing had happened. Most of the scattered Mandalorians had returned to the covert, and though less bustling than it was the halls of the sewer were alive with movement. Only tell-tale scorch marks on the walls told of what had happened here. He knew this covert enjoyed a new connection to the outside world in the form of Karga, who had taken a liking to them after his recent experiences. Still, they prefered the safety of the sewers. 

Din meandered along the halls until he reached his objective. She was in her smithy, as he had known she would be. She looked up from her work as he entered.

“You have returned,” The Armorer said with a note of interest in her voice. The fire from the forge glinted off her armor. “Have you reunited the child with his people?”

“No. They are proving very difficult to find,” he replied.

She nodded slightly. “I am not surprised. I have told you all I know.”

“That’s not why I’m here.” He paused, suddenly unsure of how to put this into words. He wanted her council, but he couldn’t fight the embarassment he felt for needing it.

“Something troubles you,” she said, reading his body language. “You may speak freely here.”

“There are things in my life that are making me question the way,” he admitted. She watched him, he could tell without judgment. There were few that he would dare speak with these matters about. “Are there no provisions for… families?”

“You know the way as well as I,” she answered. He must have looked disappointment, because she continued. “It is true that the Mandalorians were not always this strict. Even today, some tribes bare their faces. Our way is our own. These things you learned when you were a foundling.”

“I know. I just… never expected it to be this difficult.”

“Few do. It is the rebel, is it not? The one who is called Carasynthia Dune.”

“How did you know?"

The Armorer stared at him for a moment as if he had said something stupid. “You brought her here those months ago. It is a simple thing to observe the actions of one who is in love.”  
  
“I wasn’t—” he started protesting, but broke off. She was still staring at him. “I’ve never even thought about removing my helmet before.”

“Love is never easy.”

“Have you ever? Been in love?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. It was not a topic that was often discussed, and he wondered if it was a mistake bringing it up. The Mandalorians were a private people, even among their own.

“Yes. She was also a Mandalorian,” the Armorer replied, a wistful note in her voice. “It was like we were made for each other. Two sides of a coin. Two halves of a whole. I knew the shape of every inch of her face by heart, and she mine. Once I waivered. I told her I wanted to show her my face, to give her something I had given no other living thing.”

Din was amazed how open she was being with him. He would wager that few knew this about her. “What did she say?”

“She told me that I had already given her this gift. She did not need to see my face to know who I was. To love me more than life itself.” The Armorer was silent then. She turned to her forge almost absently.

“What happened?” he asked quietly.

“She died,” she replied simply, as if there was anything simple about it, “saving my life.”

“I’m sorry.” The words were small, so terribly insufficient for the job, but they were all he could offer.

“It was many years ago. The pain is no less, but it is different somehow. Every item I forge I do in her honor.”

“This is the way.”

They were both silent then, giving reverence to the dead. Din could not bear thinking about what such a loss would feel like.

“Does it ever go away? The feeling like you could give her more?” he asked eventually.

She shook her head. “Not entirely. The right partner will make you forget it for a time, though. She has not asked you to remove you helmet? Tried to see your face?”

“Cara would never,” he replied vehemently. “She knows what this means to me.”

“Good.” The Armorer paused for a moment. “It would be unorthodox for a member of our tribe to wed someone who is not Mandalorian, but there is precedent.”

His eyes went wide beneath his helmet. “I never said anything about wedding…”

“No,” she said, cutting him off. “I did. You may not think it now, but one day you will. Then you will know.”

Din didn’t quite know what to say to that. The idea of a _wedding_ was so foreign to him. He’d never been to one and never in a million years thought of himself as actually participating. This thing with Cara had started just last night—well really, months ago—but anyway marriage seemed light years away, if ever. He didn’t really think she was the settling down type.

“Thank you,” he said after a pause. “I appreciate your help. Especially after what I did to this covert.”

The Armorer shook her head. “You did nothing to us that we did not do to ourselves. Be free of guilt. This is the way.”

“This is the way,” he responded before he left.

* * *

The first thing Cara noticed when she entered Greef’s cantina was that someone was sitting in _her_ office. She had to remind herself that it wasn’t her place anymore and resisted the urge to go slam his head into the table. It wasn’t as if she would have had the chance anyway; Greef spotted her almost immediately and came barreling over.

“Well well well, I didn’t expect you back so soon,” he boomed, grinning. His eyes flitted to the child in the carrier. “I take it Mando is around too?”

Cara nodded. “He had to take care of a few things. How’s business?”

“Good, good. Though I am missing your way with people. Where are my manors?” he said suddenly. He stretched out his arm to an empty table. “Please, sit!”

She slid into a seat and parked the carrier next to her as Greef snapped at the droid behind the bar. The kid looked around curiously at the others in the cantina. When the droid arrived she ordered a Tevraki whisky, her favorite, and a bowl of soup for the kid.

“So what brings you to Nevarro?” Greef asked, watching the child. “I assume I’m not going to have the honor of having you back in my employ?”

Cara took a swig of her drink. “Not exactly. We’ve been flying all over this damn galaxy looking for the kid’s people and we find ourselves a bit short on credits for fuel. Hoping you’d have a job we could snag before we make our next move.”

“Hmm,” he mused. “I may have a few things that would suit. Where are you off to next?”  
  
“Lothal.”

“ _Lothal_? Talk about middle of nowhere,” he replied with a chuckle. “What in the galaxy do you think you’ll find there?”  
  
She shrugged, looking down at the ice in her glass. “Any sign of the Jedi, for one.”

“Well you’re in luck for one part at least. Got a puck that no one wants because it’s too far out of the way. Pay’s good though. Care to guess where the client is located?”  
  
“Lothal?”

“The very same,” Greef replied, grinning.

Cara huffed a laugh and took another swig of her whisky. “Guess we’ll take it, then.”

“You know, you’re really doing me a favor,” he said, rifiling the puck among the others in his possession.

“Well then maybe you can do us a favor and put us up for the night? The beds on that ship aren’t the comfiest.”

He looked at her with an expression of mock injury on his face. “That goes without saying.” He finally located the puck and slid it over to her. “So, how’s life with a Mandalorian?”

“Oh, fine,” she replied, taking a drink to try to avoid the flush she felt rising in her face.

“You’ve been with them what, now, a month?”

“Two. We spend most of the time running after this one,” she said, nodding toward the kid.

Greef laughed. “Don’t I know it.” He waved at the kid and the kid waved back at him. “Is Mando still a hardass? Or is this kid softening him up?”

She considered how to answer this. “Yes and no,” she said eventually. “He’s still a hardass, just not all the time. He’s got his soft spots. The kid is definitely one of them.”

“I knew it!” he said triumphantly, as if he’d won some kind of bet. “I guess you’re probably familiar with both his soft parts and his hard parts by now.”  
  
Cara choked violently on her whisky. Greef looked surprised and confused, apparently oblivious of his inuendo. Seconds later, Din walked into the cantina. She was still coughing when he walked up to the table.

“Are you ok?” Din asked, a note of concern in his voice.

“Fine,” she choked out, nodding. “M’fine.”

“Good to see you again, Mando,” Greef put in from across the table.

Din turned to face him and inclined his head slightly. “And you, Greef.”

“Cara was just telling me about what it’s like living with a Mandalorian.”

“Was she now?” Din replied. His voice was a mix of skepticism, interest, and a hint of worry. He looked at Cara, but she shook her head forcefully, still unable to speak.

Greef laughed. “Don’t worry, she’s not giving away your secrets. Told me about your travel plans, though.” He nodded toward the puck by Cara. “This guy out in Lothal insisted that the bounty be delivered directly to him. Had that puck for ages now.”

“That’s convenient,” Din replied. “Any trouble out here since we left?”

Greef shook his head. “Imperials have stayed away so far. Probably moved somewhere more remote.”

“Good.”

“Can I send you up something to eat? Drink?” Greef offered. “On the house.”

Din tilted his head slightly and looked back at Cara, who was still trying to get liquor out of her trachea. “Thought we could spend the night here…” she explained with a shrug.

“Sure,” Din agreed, turning back to Greef. “Just something simple. Tell your droid to leave it outside the door.”

“Very well,” Greef replied. He snapped at the droid behind the bar, who dropped what he was doing and walked over to them. “Two rooms. Should be some on the second floor.”

The droid bowed slightly. “Yes sir.” He turned toward Din and Cara. “Please follow me."

Cara and Greef both stood and she stuck out her hand. “Thanks Karga. We appreciate all your help.”

“Any time. Don’t be a stranger,” he replied, giving her hand a hearty shake.

At the bottom of the stairs, out of earshot, she stopped the droid and in a fit of madness whispered, “Is, uh, the room with the double bed open?”

“You won’t be needing two rooms then, Miss Cara?” the droid replied loudly.

Most of the cantina’s patrons paused what they were doing to look at them, and Cara felt her face get hot. So much for discretion. Greef was regarding them suspiciously. After a few long seconds that seemed like eternity everyone turned back to their conversations.

“Just the one,” Cara confirmed quietly, trying to regain some some shred of her dignity.

They walked silently up the stairs and she wondered what Din was thinking. Maybe this had been a mistake. What if he was regretting that morning? What if he wanted to forget it and move on? What if he just wasn’t ready? She just got them a room with one bed without asking _and_ managed to announce it to the whole cantina. Gods she could be stupid sometimes.

The droid dropped them off at the door of the room. “Will you be needing food for two or three?” he asked.

“Two and a half,” Din replied, surprising her. She had half convinced herself that he would ask for a second room.

“Very good sir,” the droid confirmed and bustled off down the hall.

Din opened the door to the room and walked in, the kid’s carrier zooming in after him. Still feeling unsure of herself and slightly embarassed, Cara followed after a few moments. When she entered she saw that he’d already pulled off his gloves and was removing his vambraces. As the door clicked shut behind her he looked up at her.

“Hope this is ok, I didn’t mean to presume…” she said hesitantly.

He walked toward her, not saying anything, that damn helmet unreadable as always. When he reached her he put his hands on her upper arms and pushed her back against the door, tipping his head down so that the forehead of his helmet met hers. Cara felt her heart speed up. He slid one of his hands up to her neck while the other dropped to her waist and gave her side a gentle squeeze.

“Presume anything you want,” he whispered, his voice barely audible past the helmet.

Cara inhaled sharply, her heart in her throat. Her hands trembled slightly as they fumbled at the clasp of his utility belt almost of their own volition. He pushed closer, the beskar breastplate pressing against her chest, and she thought of Greef’s comment about knowing his hard parts and soft parts. She felt his hand, hot even through her shirt, slip up under the bottom of her armor.

The tiniest sound from across the room made her pause. “Din,” she breathed, looking past his shoulder, “the kid.”

The child still sat in his carrier, watching them curiously. Din sighed as he pulled away from her and turned toward the kid. Grumbling something under his breath that she couldn’t quite make out, he walked over to the carrier. Cara was so wrapped up in watching him that the soft knock on the door behind her made her jump a mile. She took a deep breath and passed a smoothing hand over her front before she opened the door to see the droid with a tray of food standing in the hall.

“I thought you were supposed to leave this outside?” she said, eyebrow cocked.

The droid nodded. “Yes, but I wanted to alert you to it’s presence.”

“Give it here.” She held out her hands and the droid passed her the tray, then disappeared down the hallway again.

Cara swung the door shut and placed the tray on the small table in the room. Din had picked up the child and now carried him toward the table. He handed the kid to her and stood awkwardly for a second.  
  
“I can take mine into the bathroom,” he said, reaching toward one of the plates.

She shook her head as she sat. “Don’t be silly. The kid and I will just face this way. You can sit over there.” She pointed to the other chair before she grabbed a plate turned her own to face the opposite direction.

After a few moments she heard him set the helmet on the table and sink into the chair. The kid sat in her lap, happily focused on the drumstick she’d given him while she piled things into a makeshift sandwich to eat with one hand. At first the tension in the room was palpable; despite his trust in her, he was clearly still more comfortable with his helmet on. As they ate she could feel him relax, getting used to the idea that eating could be a communal thing.

“So you get that armor repair you needed?” Cara asked as she polished off the rest of her sandwich.

“Yes,” he replied. He didn’t offer anything more, and she knew better than to push.

“Good. Can’t have my Mandalorian running around with busted armor, can we?” she muttered to the kid in her lap, bending her head down toward his head. He yawned dramatically in response. She didn’t quite realize what she had said—or that it had been audible to anyone but the kid—until she heard Din laughing behind her. “I meant—”

“You meant what you said,” he cut her off. She heard him stand up from the chair and walk up behind her. He leaned down, his mouth near her ear. “I am yours, after all.”

And her heart was off to the races again. What was he _doing_ to her with all these whispers? It was like he knew just what to say to render her completely speechless. She swallowed hard and looked down at the kid who was out cold, snoring in her lap. “What are the odds he stays asleep?” she asked, somewhat breathlessly.

“Pretty high,” he replied. He straightened again and she heard him replace his helmet. “Give him here.”

Turning in her seat, she handed him the sleeping kid. She watched his back as he walked over to the carrier and laid the child inside it. Her heart was still beating rapidly. Well, two could play these games. She walked up close behind him as he adjusted the blankets around the kid and slid her hands under his cape. As she located each buckle and fastener she deftly undid it, letting her hands drag along his body as she worked. He closed the top of the carrier and made to turn toward her, but she stopped him.

“Don’t you think we should put that in the bathroom? Wouldn’t want to wake him,” she purred, not pausing in her unbuckling.

“Why? Are you particularly loud?” he asked. She could hear the smirk in his voice.

“No, but you will be,” she whispered next to his helmet, taking the opportunity to drag her hand along the smooth skin that she had recently exposed at the top of his waistband.

She grinned wickedly when he stiffened and sucked in a sharp breath. This time she didn’t stop him as he turned toward her, reaching for her own fasteners. They moved as rapidly as they could, both sets of hands trembling with anticipation.

“I’m not sure you’re armor is complicated enough,” she said sarcastically as she yanked one of his epaulets off.

“You should talk,” he shot back, “you’re wearing two belts.”

“One’s my gun belt,” she protested as he pulled it off of her and dropped it uncerimoniously on the ground.

“And yet you wore it today.”

Cara had finally managed to loosen his entire chest armor and pull it off of him. “I wear it every day. Pays to be prepared,” she replied as she did.

She crouched down to undo the plates on his legs, and if he had a snappy comeback it was lost when she ran her hand along his inner thigh. He inhaled sharply again as she undid one and then the other and let them fall to the floor. Finally he was without armor except for the helmet. She stood and leaned into him, her hand finding the tightening region of his pants. He moaned at her touch and his hand slid down her waist to grab her ass, pressing their bodies even tighter together. Gods she wanted to kiss him right now. She almost closed her eyes and told him to take the damn helmet off, but then he was attempting pulling her armor and her shirt over her head in one fell swoop. She squirmed out of it and he slid his hands along her bare waist, his touch hot against her cool skin. She slipped her own hands under his shirt and he hissed faintly at her touch. Damn, but he was responsive. Cara pushed him backwards until his legs hit the bed and he sat back onto it. She straddled him and grabbed the hem of his shirt, pulling it upward.

“What’s say we remove the can long enough to pull this off?” she suggested, resting her forehead on his helmet.

Din nodded breathlessly and she sat back as she closed her eyes. She felt his arms moved up to remove the helmet but before she could take his shirt off he pulled her down into a kiss. Something about the delayed gratification made it all the more electric. His lips were demanding and desperate, as if kissing her was the only thing keeping him alive. She wove her fingers through his hair and returned his ardor. He grabbed her ass with one hand and hips against him while the other cupped her breast through her bra. She could feel the tension building inside her, already threatening to overwhelm her.

She finally managed to pull his shirt off when they pulled apart, gasping for air. She traced her fingers over his chest, feeling the muscles under his skin, wirey and lean. She had of course seen him like this only days ago, but this was totally different. His hands fumbled at the band of her bra, and she smirked.

“You’re gonna need my help,” she told him, laying her hands on his. She pulled the elastic in just the right way and peeled it off in one fluid move.

“I will figure that out,” he promised, eliciting a laugh from her.

One of his hands cupped her breast gingerly, almost tentatively, but she pushed into it and he teased her nipple in response. The sensation of his hands on her sent lightning bolts of pleasure down to her feet. Then she felt his mouth on her other breast and she gasped. This whole eyes-closed thing really did keep her on her toes. She slipped one of her hands down to his crotch and rubbed him through his pants, making him groan loudly. Somehow, without her noticing it, he’d managed to unbutton her pants and now he was slipping his hand inside them, his fingers teasing her though the thin fabric of her panties. It was her turn to moan as she ground down onto him, desperate for the friction. He acquiesced, pushing against her, and she felt her eyelids flutter involuntarily. She froze.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, worry apparent in his voice. He began pulling his hand away but she stopped him.

“Nothing,” she huffed, out of breath. “I just… I don’t know if I can control my eyelids completely if you’re gonna do things like that.”

One of her hands rested on his cheek and she felt him smile. “Well that’s what this is for,” he replied. After a moment he grabbed her hand and placed something in it. She immediately recognized the smooth fabric of the blindfold.

“Did you… did you just pull this out of my pocket?” she asked incredulously.

“You’re the one who brought it.”

Cara just grinned in response. She felt the silky fabric cover her eyes as he tied it securely behind her head. “You know, I’m not sure this is really fair…” she said playfully, tracing her fingertips along his jaw.

“Oh?” Din had begun kissing her neck, working his way down to her shoulder leaving a trail of fire in his wake.   
  
“Well it’s just that you get to see my body but I don’t get to see yours.” She slid her hands over his bare skin, feeling every scar and mole, reveling in the smoothness. If she couldn’t see him, she was going to feel every inch of him.

“You saw my body yesterday,” he argued between kisses.

“Not,” she said, hooking her fingers into his waistband and pulling on it, “ _all_ of you.”

“If you’re concerned about _fairness_ , there’s always complete darkness. But…” he hesitated, but she waited him out, “this time, could we…?”

“Of course,” she replied. Then she leaned down to put her mouth next to his ear. “But next time, the helmet stays on. At least… for some of the time.”

She heard him gulp and grinned broadly. She knew that half of it was the promise of _next time_ , the promise that this wasn’t what both of them were used to: the quick and dirty couplings, the hurried seeking of release with whoever was convenient. She pressed her lips lightly just behind his ear but he turned his face against hers, capturing her lips with his. Then he gripped her hips tightly and, not breaking the kiss, rotated on the bed. She lay on her back now and he partly on top of her. His hips were between her thighs so she hooked her legs over his, grinding against his erection. He wimpered softly and his grip on her hip tightened.

He broke away from the kiss, then, but his lips weren’t idle long. He peppered her skin with kisses, trailing down from her neck to her collarbone, to the scars along her shoulder, to the fullness of her breasts, each sending waves of pressure to her core. She felt him slide her pants over her hips as he worked, taking her underwear with them, and finally she was completely naked before him. Her breaths were coming faster, making her lightheaded even before his hand slid between her legs. She coiled her fingers through his hair, blindly keeping track of his head as he moved across her stomach and to her hip. She felt him ever so softly trace the fresh scars from Dagobah that marked her skin, his lips better healers than all the bacta in the galaxy.

Din moved slowly, deliberately, reverently, as if he was worshipping her body. It was unlike the way anyone had ever treated her before. His fingers moved in a way that left her writhing, desperate for his touch, and she was so wrapped up in that sensation that when suddenly his mouth was on her she nearly blacked out. The friction of his beard almost sent her over the edge immediately but she fought to delay it, holding his head tight like an anchor keeping her grounded in a storm.

“Oh gods,” was all she managed to hiss before the waves of pleasure came crashing down on her, sending fireworks up behind her eyelids.

Every movement of his tongue sent a shock lancing up her spine, the pleasure so close to pain she had to stop him eventually. She was gasping for air, feeling completely boneless as he crawled back over her. She let her hand slide down his neck and onto his chest, giving one of his nipples a tweak.

“For a man of few words, you have a clever tongue,” she breathed, her other hand resting on his cheek. She felt him smile as he lay down beside her again, half his body on hers.

“Oh that? That was nothing,” he smirked.

Her stomach turned over, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction. She pulled his head down to wipe the smirk off his mouth with her own, tasting herself on his lips. Then she pushed him over in one quick movement, making him yelp in surprise as she climbed on top of him and pulled at his pants with wild abandon.

If her goal had been to make him scream—her name, the gods’, unintelligable words—she succeeded, but in the end they were both loud enough to make the person in the room next door pound on the wall, sending them into fits of laughter between gasps and moans and satisfied sighs.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally didn't expect this one to go where it did, it just kinda happened as I was writing. Anyway I hope you enjoy it!

He woke with his face buried in Cara’s hair, much as he had the previous morning. He lay on his stomach this time, though, arm thrown over her body and their legs still tangled together. Were she not here, naked beside him, he might have thought the previous night had been a dream. But she was. He breathed in deeply, reveling in the scent of her and the feel of her body against his. It was intoxicating, and he wondered how he could possibly be expected to get out of bed and face the day when she was next to him.

Waking up next to someone was not something that Din had often done, and waking up naked next to someone even fewer times. Waking up without his helmet next to someone was not something he had ever done before three days ago. He would have thought that doing so would leave him in a panic no matter how much his rational mind knew it was ok, but it wasn't so with Cara. Every morning he woke up feeling comfortable and safe and ridiculously… normal.

Slowly he became aware of a weight on one side of his lower back. He thought maybe it was Cara’s leg, but that didn’t seem quite right. The weight shifted slightly toward her, and something told him that he should keep his face hidden just yet.

Cara groaned abruptly, apparently awake now. “You really are a pest sometimes, you know that?”

The kid cooed happily. _Ah ha._ Din grabbed the loose edge of the blanket and pulled it over his head sleepily. Once he was covered Cara pushed herself into a sitting position, holding her part of the blanket over her chest. He looked at her body from under the blanket and resisted the urge to plant a kiss on her hip.

“There’s not a lock in the galaxy that can hold you back, is there?” she asked the kid.

He saw her move slightly, apparently casting about for something to wear. Finally she seemed to find something and climbed out of the bed. The weight on top of the blanket disappeared and he heard her pad across the room. Din considered going to look for his helmet, but honestly he didn’t feel like getting out of bed. He was not ashamed to admit that Cara had worn him out last night. She murmured something to the kid from in the bathroom, then he heard her walk back.

The edge of the bed compressed and she said, “We’ve got about five minutes before he polishes off that leftover drumstick.”

Din sat up and pulled the covers off his head to see her leaning with one knee on the edge of the bed, eyes closed, and a smile gently curling her lips. She wore his shirt, which she filled out rather well. The hem of it was just long enough to barely cover the curve of her ass, which was sliding seductively upward as she leaned forward toward him. He felt an overwhelming wave of desire surge through him as he reached out and pulled her into a kiss. Not content with their current positions, she pushed toward him and straddled his lap, never breaking contact. Din felt suddenly lightheaded as all his blood rushed to his groin; or maybe it was just that Cara was in his arms, pressing her body into his.

Suddenly she pulled away, a soft smile on her face as she traced her hands over his face. She’d taken to doing it frequently, usually while looking right at him with her closed eyes as if she could see through the lids. The combination never failed to leave him breathless. After only a couple of days she undoubtedly knew his face better than any living person.

“Much as I’d like to spend all day in bed with you, don’t you think we should probably get going?” she asked.

No, in fact, he did not. Every step closer to finding the kid’s people was a step closer to giving him up. And what if Cara decided to leave when they no longer had the pretense of working together for the kid’s sake? He wanted none of it. What he did want was to take Cara and the kid off to one of these remote planets and settle down. Maybe even take off the helmet… he could be a farmer, live the simple life. But he couldn’t tell her this, not now. It was all too much, too soon. She tilted her head at his pause, clearly waiting for him to respond.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he choked out, swallowing hard. He hoped she wouldn’t pick up on his reluctance.

Cara climbed off his lap and pulled his shirt off over her head, once again naked. Damn it, she was not making this easy. She was acting completely oblivious, but there was no way she wasn’t trying to rile him up. Sighing, he crawled to the edge of the bed and grabbed his helmet from where he’d left it on the floor the previous night. He watched as she opened her eyes to look for her clothing but kept them averted from him. It would be so simple to move into her line of sight, so tempting to say to hell with it. Before he could even consider it she had pulled on her pants and shirt and disappeared into the bathroom again. By the time she emerged, carrier in tow, he was dressed and had more or less managed to calm himself down.

“Wanna divide and conquer?” she asked, picking up a scrap of bread from the previous night’s plates. “You take the kid and get food. I’ll restock ammo.”

Din chuckled. “How about I’ll take the kid _and_ get the ammunition?”  
  
“You think I can’t get stuff from the Armorer?” she replied with mock offense. “She knows me. Besides I gotta get some girl talk in.” She gave him a coy look and popped a berry into her mouth

This did not seem like a good idea. Not that she couldn’t handle herself, or that she’d be in danger in the covert. It was more the idea of _girl talk_ that gave him pause. “Since when do you do girl talk?”

Cara just shrugged as she walked toward the door. “I’ll grab you some more charges.”

Apparently the discussion was over. He turned toward the kid, who just looked at him curiously. “Try not to eat the whole market while we’re there?”

* * *

Cara had been down in the covert a few times while working for Greef, delivering a message or package. She always volunteered, even though he always said he’d send a droid. She didn’t totally know why. She told herself that it was just because she wanted to help them get back on their feet, that she’d do it for anyone, but in truth it was likely because being around them had reminded her of him. The side benefit was that they knew her now, and she walked easily down tunnels she knew well.

“Welcome,” the Armorer greeted as Cara walked into the smithy. “It has been a while since you were last here.”

“I’ve been traveling with Din and the kid,” she answered, looking idly around at the weapons on the walls.

“I know.”  
  
Cara furrowed her brows almost imperceptibly. Of course there were many ways that the Armorer could have known about what she’d been doing, Greef chief among them, but something in the way she said those words made them convey more than just that.

“Din sent me to resupply our ammo,” she said breezily, picking a gun off the rack in front of her to admire it.

“Did he.”

It wasn’t really said as a question. Cara felt like she was an open book, that the Mandalorian in front of her could read everything about her with ease. She wondered if it was a Mandalorian thing; maybe they got so good at it because they spent so much time reading others whose faces they couldn’t see.

“Maybe I volunteered,” Cara replied eventually, pretending to inspect the weapon.

The Armorer inclined her head slightly. “You’re here for the same reason he was.”

“He didn’t tell me he’d already restocked.” Cara’s tone was light, but she felt her insides clench. She hadn’t come here to try to find out what Din had been doing the previous day, and the Armorer hadn’t really said anything, but the implication…

“Cara, you know you are welcome here, but do not waste my time and yours.”

Cara replaced the weapon slowly and turned to face the other woman. “How much _do_ you know?”  
  
“Enough,” the Armorer answered with a slight tilt of her head.

Cara took a deep breath. “Is this a thing that can work? Him and me?”

“I don’t think I’m qualified to answer that question.”

“I mean… practically. I’m not a Mandalorian. Does that mean there’s an expiration date on this relationship?”

“If you’re asking if such a relationship is against the code, it is not,” the Armorer replied simply. “Whether or not you can live with the fact that you may never see his face is another matter entirely.”  
  
“May?” The hope that she had felt at that one word frightened her. She hated herself for it, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking.

“If Din Djarin chooses to leave the way, that is for him to decide. But I do not think that is the answer you were hoping for,” the Armorer explained. Then, as if she could read Cara’s thoughts, she continued. “Do not blame yourself for wishing it could be different. It is a natural thing. We all make compromises for love. It is true that yours is heavier than you may have ever imagined it would be.”

Cara scratched the back of her neck pensively. “To tell you the truth, I never imagined it at all. Being with someone, like this. Maybe that makes it easier.”

“Unlikely,” the Armorer replied dryly. “But I hope for your sake it does.”

“Sometimes I wonder if this is a good idea. If he wouldn’t be better off with one of his own,” she said quietly.

“You are good for him, Cara, though you may not believe it.”

Cara’s mouth twisted into a small smirk. “You really think so?”  
  
“I know it.”

Cara watched with curiosity as the Armorer walked over to her. Before she knew it had happened the other woman had detached her right epaulet and carried it back over to her forge. If it were almost anyone else Cara would have marched over and snatched her armor back. One did not snatch anything from the Armorer, though. She worked quickly, without a word of explanation. A chunk of metal disappeared into the forge, then molten metal poured into nondescript molds. The Armorer’s back was to Cara but she saw sparks flying as the two pieces were welded. Finally, the Armorer turned and walked back toward Cara, a glittering piece of plate in her hand. She reached up and affixed it to Cara’s shoulder. When Cara craned her neck to see it she gasped. Her epaulet had been recreated in shining beskar, but what left her speechless was the delicate mudhorn signet worked on its surface. Cara looked from the Armorer to the epaulet several times, eyes wide, but the Mandalorian was silent.

“I… I can’t accept this,” Cara choked out eventually, shaking her head slightly. “It’s too much.”

“It’s not a gift,” the Armorer replied. “Not really. It’s a promise. You are not Mandalorian, but that does not mean that you do not belong. You are a clan of three now. It is your duty to protect them, as it is his to protect you. Wear it well.”

She looked back down at the epaulet and the mudhorn. It _was_ a lot. Not just the value of the beskar, but the meaning of it. If she accepted it now, she was accepting more responsibilty than she had ever taken on before. It should have been terrifying, but instead it felt incredibly right.

“Thank you,” she breathed. The words seemed insufficient for the gratitude that she felt.

The Armorer inclined her head to Cara, then turned toward her cabinets. “Now, what munitions do you require?”

* * *

  
Din was cleaning his rifle when Cara walked up the ramp of the ship, a bag in her hand and a piece of glittering beskar on her shoulder. He almost dropped the gun.

“Cara, what…? How…?” he stammered, unable to properly form sentences.

When she’d gone to see the Armorer he hardly expected she’d show up with _that_. The Armorer didn’t make armor for outsiders, even someone associated with a member of the tribe. That she had made something for Cara was unbelievable. Setting the gun to the side, he stood and walked toward her as she dropped the bag on the table.

She smirked at him, though it lacked the fire that it usually had. “What? This old thing?” she tried to say nonchalantly, but her voice waivered.

When he stepped to her side and saw the mudhorn his heart nearly stopped. “Cara, what is this?” he whispered.

“You’d think you’d recognize your own signet,” she quipped halfheartedly. When he didn’t respond she looked down at her shoulder, then back up at him. “She said we were a clan of three now.”

Even if he had known what to say, Din couldn’t have spoken in that moment. He wondered if Cara could possibly understand how much this meant: that the Armorer had made it for her, and that she had accepted it. From the look on her face she understood enough. Her expression was almost hesistant, and he realized she was waiting for his approval. Still not trusting himself to speak, he pulled her toward him and wrapped his arms around her. He held her tightly, feeling his heart hammering against his beskar breastplate, and she clung to him. Occasionally she would take a deep, shuddery breath, and he’d hug her tighter.

Eventually he pulled back slightly, keeping his arms still wrapped around her. He was shocked to see tear tracks running down her face, though she was smiling softly. He reached up and gently wiped one of her cheeks with his thumb. Every day it became harder and harder not to just pull off the helmet and be done with it, and the urge to do so now and kiss her tears away was powerful.

“Are you… Are you sure about this?” he asked quietly, finally finding his voice. “It means…”  
  
“It means a lot,” she finished. “I know.”

“It’s just… this just started. Us. I don’t want you to feel pressured into something you’re not ready for.”

To his surprise Cara laughed. “We’ve been partners for months, Din, just too afraid of our feelings to let ourselves be happy. I want this. I’m sure. Are you?”

Din had never wanted anything more in his life. She was right, of course. They worked incredibly well together, more than he’d ever really thought was possible. He never expected to have a clan of his own, yet it seemed that now he did. He felt like his heart was about to burst.

“Yeah,” he answered, nodding. “I’m sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended another chapter with them hugging, so sue me. XD
> 
> Thank you so much for your support and comments! They mean the world to me and keep me going.


	9. Chapter 9

“Why does he have to be hiding out on Corellia?” Cara sighed, leaning over the map she’d spread across the table. “That place is such a shithole.”

“You have a history there?” Din inquired from the galley. She heard dishes clatter as he cleaned up after their morning meal and prepped something to keep the kid busy. He was humming softly and it brought a smile to her face; she wanted to ask him what the tune was, but she knew he would deny humming in the first place.

She made to roll the map up again but the kid was sitting on it, looking intently at it as if he could read it. “Our unit was sent in to take out some fighter shipyards,” she told Din.

Only a few steps separated them in the ship, so when she heard him move she only had a moment to grab the kid and avert his eyes before Din appeared. He’d gotten more and more cavalier about his helmet ever since she’d returned with the beskar epaulet, even though she knew it hadn’t changed any rules. It was almost as if he wanted her to ‘accidentally’ see his face, but she wasn’t going to let him take the easy way out. She’d adapted surprisingly quickly. Even when he wasn’t speaking she could tell by the way he walked when he wasn’t wearing it. Arresting her gaze at his neck was easy, and her ability to do it without thinking seemed to only further embolden him. Even the kid seemed to have a preternatural ability to avoid looking at his dad when he was bare faced.

Displaying that ability, the kid squirmed in her arms and turned toward Din, arms outstretched and eyes squeezed shut. Din obliged him and he nestled his head up under Din’s chin.

“How does he know?” Cara asked, watching the child.

Din shrugged, holding the kid to his chest. “He just does. He’s fifty years old after all, I’d wager there’s a lot more that he knows than he lets on.”

As if to confirm this hypothesis, the kid cooed.

Cara smirked. “Let’s hope not too much.”

Din chuckled softly. “Well, he’s still a kid.”

“You ever going to give him a name?” she teased. It had been a joke, but he stilled his almost imperceptible rocking and stiffened. “I didn’t mean…”

“I know,” he sighed. “Maybe he already has a name, and we’ll find it out when we reunite him with his people.” His voice was strained and his arms had tightened around the kid, who had fallen asleep.

“Din,” she replied quietly. “You heard Maz. Even if we find these ‘Jedi’, I doubt they’ll know who he is, really. You’re his family, like they never will be.”

There was a pause as he seemed to soak this in, and then he gave a short nod. “ _We_ are.”

Cara felt her chest tighten. A _family_. Why was the word so much scarier than _clan_? She knew he’d say the words meant the same thing, but they didn’t feel like it to her. Perhaps because a clan was abstract. She’d never been part of a clan before. But she had a family, once. Long ago. She’d buried the pain of their loss so deep that it would never be dredged up. But now this stupid, amazing man and his stupid, amazing kid were excavating it out again, and that was terrifying. The terror must have been obvious on her face because Din put a hand on her arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“He still might have a name,” Din argued, steering the conversation away from their nascent family. “Something his parents gave him.”

She swallowed and nodded, trying to put her shields back up. “But say we don’t find out. You gonna keep calling him ‘kid’ all his life?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. He’ll probably be a kid for the rest of mine. What would you name him?”  
  
Cara pretended to ponder this question for a moment. “I dunno. Nigel?”

She could tell that he was making a face. "Not Nigel.”

“What if my father’s name was Nigel?” she asked with mock indignation.

“Then I’d apologize, but we’re still not naming the kid Nigel.”

Cara laughed. "My father’s name wasn’t Nigel.”

“I know,” he replied. When she arced her eyebrows at him, he added, “You just don’t seem like the daughter of a Nigel.”

The autopilot in the cockpit beeped; they were almost to Corellia. Din carried the sleeping kid over to his carrier and laid him in it. He adjusted the blankets then maneuvered it into his sleeping chamber to keep the kid out of the way while they picked up the bounty.

“Sweet dreams, Nigel,” Cara said as the door to the chamber closed, grinning broadly.

Din just groaned and climbed up to the cockpit. By the time she had made it up the ladder he was wearing his helmet. Corellia lay below them, from above it almost looked nice, the clouds and oceans and forests. But she knew better. He set the Razor Crest down on the outskirts of town and they prepared to depart.

* * *

Cara slid into the chair at a small table, a weasly looking in opposite her. He had a long face with small eyes and dark hair that hung limply to his shoulders. She’d cased him before from behind and he didn’t appear to be armed. The client had given specific instructions as to his capture, which made her wonder what on earth they wanted him for. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Din sitting at the bar nearby, his posture tense. He did not approve of this plan, but she’d convinced him it was the best way to go.

She smiled at the man across from her, who looked up at her in surprise. “This seat taken?”  
  
“Well I guess it is now,” he replied sourly. “What do you want?”

Cara just kept smiling at him. “You.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he snorted.

“You are Rich Blaker, are you not?”

His expression turned suspicious. “I am. What’s this about?”

Slowly, she pulled the tracking fob out of her pocket and laid it on the table between them. The red light glowed menacingly in the dim cantina. To her surprised, Blaker looked skeptical.

“I never heard of a shock trooper turned bounty hunter,” he challenged.

She cocked an eyebrow at the remark. “You keep tabs on the guild, do you?”

“I do. I find it to be worth the effort.”

Cara sat back in her seat and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I see. Have you ever heard of a Mandalorian bounty hunter?”

Blaker snorted again. “Of course. Who hasn’t? But you’re no Mandalorian.” To her surprise, the words stung. It was the truth, she wasn’t a Mandalorian and never would be. But hearing it from someone like Blaker seemed to emphasize the fact she didn’t really belong. Before her thoughts could spiral further downward, the repugnant man across from her pushed back from the table and stood. “Now if you’re done wasting my time…”

Before he could finish the sentence Din appeared as if out of thin air beside them. Blaker’s jaw dropped, but he wasn’t stunned for long. Moving more quickly than she would have guessed, he shot off to one side and toward the back of the cantina but couldn’t find an easy escape. Din stood in the only clear path to the door. Blaker was focused on him as he seemingly bounced around the cantina, looking for an exit. He didn’t see Cara until she stepped in front of him and he practically collided with her. She dropped him to the ground and put one foot firmly on his chest.

“H–hey, now, maybe we can come to an arrangement here…” he stammered.

Cara laughed. “I’d say I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold, but…”

“But that’s my line,” Din said from beside her.

She grinned as Blaker groaned, letting his head hit the ground underneath him. Din crouched down and clapped the manacles on his hands, then hauled him to a standing position.

“Let’s go,” Din growled.

“I can pay you double, I swear,” Blaker offered as he stumbled behind Din toward the door of the cantina. Din didn’t acknowledge the bribe.

“Don’t know _that_ much about the guild then, do you?” Cara said with chuckle as she brought up the rear.

Blaker tried to look back at her. “What about you? You’re not guild. Whatever he’s paying you, I can double it. Triple it.”

“No, you can’t,” she replied, shaking her head. She shoved him out the door and down the street.

Blaker was not deterred. “He’s got something on you? I can help!”

Cara just shook her head again and pushed him further down the road. Miraculously, he was quiet for the rest of the walk to the ship. It was only when the ramp had closed and Din had disappeared up into the cockpit that he renewed his efforts.

“C’mon babe, gimme something to work with here. I can make it worth your while.” Blaker smiled at her, if what he did could actually be called a smile.

She made a face of disgust. “Call me ‘babe’ again and you might be delivered in multiple pieces, client be damned.”

“I don’t know what he’s doing for you, but it can’t be that great,” he replied persistantly.

“Are you really that dense?”

Blaker’s eyes widened then. He looked taken aback. Din descended the ladder from the cockpit and the bounty looked from Cara to the Mandalorian. “No way.”

“Yes way,” she shot back.

Din tilted his head at her, clearly confused as to what they were talking about. When no one elaborated, he stepped toward Blaker to check his manacles. “Are you done harassing my partner?”

“I don’t need help from any whore,” Blaker spat, narrowing his eyes at Cara.

Cara rolled her eyes. She’d heard it all before, over the years. None of it phased her. The same could not be said, apparently, of Din. His hand shot out in a flash and wrapped around Blaker’s throat. The man’s eyes bulged. His bound hands grasped Din’s wrist and tugged futily but he lacked the strength to budge it.

“Care to revise that statement?” Din growled.

The man in his grasp made pitiful gurgling sounds, clearly unable to speak. At this rate he was going to kill Blaker, and this one was wanted alive or alive. Death was not an option.

“Hon,” Cara said, unable to keep an note of bemusement from her voice. “Don’t kill the bounty, maybe? We need the money.”

Din dropped Blaker and looked down at him as he fell forward onto his knees, gasping and coughing violently. She wondered what he had been thinking, or if he’d been thinking at all.

“That was very galant, but you don’t need to defend my honor,” she told him as he turned to face her. She could read a slight embarassment in his stance. “Being an asshole isn’t a capital offense.”

“Fuck, man!” Blaker gasped before Din could respond. “You let that bitch tell you what to do?”  
  
“I’m gonna put in him carbonite,” Din told Cara, pretending to ignore Blaker.

Cara shook her head. “Client said no freezing.”

“Why? They won’t be able to tell,” Din argued.

She shrugged. “Didn’t say why. I assume they have their reasons.” She glanced down at the bounty, who was still coughing. “Could gag him.”

“Fuck that kinky shit, you can go right to hell if you think…” Blaker started ranting as he struggled to stand, but he didn’t get to finish his thought. Din punched him hard, and he dropped to the floor, unconcious.

Cara looked at Din, eyebrows raised. He shrugged. “It was easier.”

“He’s supposed to be delivered uninjured, remember?”

“With what they’re paying us, we can afford it if they dock a few credits for a black eye,” he argued.

Cara smirked at him. “What are we gonna do with him? It’s gonna be days until we get to Lothal.”

“Sure you don’t want to freeze him?” Din asked. He nudged the unconcious man with his foot.

“Oh I want to freeze him, all right,” she answered. “I’d like to eject him into space. But I also know what the client asked. I assume if they said no freezing that they can tell somehow.”

He sighed. “There’s a storage area in the right wing that I sometimes use for bounties when I’m low on carbonite.”

“There we go, perfect solution,” she replied. Din did not look convinced. “C’mon, how bad can it be?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name Nigel is in reference to [Taika's tweet](https://twitter.com/taikawaititi/status/1214322595727675392?lang=en), lololol.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wrote myself deeper into the Star Wars universe than I had intended when I had them go to Lothal. I haven't seen Rebels, only read about what happened, so I apologize for any errors in canon.

Pretty bad, as it turned out. Blaker had taken to rushing the door any time they opened it, so they chained him to a pipe. He banged on the walls of the room endlessly, keeping everyone up at all hours. Occasionally the noise would get fainter as Blaker’s energy drained, but as soon as they would start drifting off he’d renew his efforts. Dark circles fell under Cara’s bloodshot eyes, and Din knew his had to be similar. The kid was cranky; once Blaker’s banging ceased suddenly and they rushed to the room to find him unconcious. They couldn’t be certain that the kid was responsible, but he certainly seemed pleased with himself. They’d managed to get a few blissful hours of sleep, after that. They and their bounty were in much worse shape than they would have preferred by the time they landed on the remote planet.

His beskar seemed extra heavy as they trudged up a large staircase. Their client was rather wealthy, as it turned out, and the golden grand hall made their ragged appearance all the more stark. Blaker’s face was sunken and sallow, his wrists raw where the manacles bound him. The black eye had faded, thankfully, and Din hoped the client would be understanding. They stood before a grand dais, Blaker between them, and waited.

“We have to deal with taking this shithead to the edge of the galaxy and now they’re gonna make us wait?” Cara grumbled. “I don’t know that any amount of money is worth this.”

“It’s almost over,” Din muttered, casting a sidelong glance at Blaker and Cara on his other side. The carrier floated next to him, the top sealed. They all needed some time off the ship, and this was after all one of the places on Skywalker’s list. Maybe they would find some new information.

Cara grumbled again but before she could say anything a door to the side of the dais slid silently open. A tall, elderly woman strode out in a long black gown. Her silvery hair was pulled into a tight bun, which seemed to draw her skin taught across the bones of her face. She might have looked severe except for the twinkle in her eye and the smile on her face.

“Oh my, you found him,” she said as a greeting, looking at the bounty between them. “My dearest Richard.”

“Dearest?” Cara blurted out, the disbelief in her tone obvious.

The old woman nodded absently, not looking at her. “Yes, this is my grandson.”

“Ma’am,” Din ventured. She was definitely not like most clients, and the revelation that they were family only made him more confused about the whole job. “We tried to follow your instructions, but I’m afraid he put up a bit of a struggle.”

The client turned her head to look at Din. The smile dropped off her face and she squinted at him. “Hmm, a Mandalorian, is it?” she asked, as if she hadn’t seen him standing there. “Not quite so colorful as the traitor who once walked this planet, but I suppose you are not all as flamboyant as The Artist. Tell me, are you all so honorless?”

Din was stunned into silence. He’d heard a story about a Mandalorian on who spent time on Lothal once, and now he was pretty sure that they had unwittingly walked right into an imperial sympathizer’s house, kid in tow.

“Look, lady,” Cara butted in before Din could come up with a reply, “this man is the most honorable person in this galaxy and the next, so don’t you dare presume to know who he is based on what you think you know about one Mandalorian, much less all of them. And furthermore,” she continued, “you’re the one who put a bounty out on your own _darling_ asshole of a grandson instead of—I don’t know—hiring any of a number of investigators who do things like this for a living. His condition is his own damn fault, and yours.”

The client stared at Cara, clearly amazed that someone had dared to talk to her like that. Din wondered how long it would be before they were summarily booted off the planet or worse—turned into some imperial remnant out here who might have heard of a Mandalorian and ex-rebel shock trooper. His fingers curled and his hand inched toward his blaster. Cara just stared back at the woman defiantly, the exhaustion only serving to make the fire in her eyes seem brighter. The tension seemed to crackle in the air between them, until at last the old woman’s face cracked into a wide grin.

“You are a fiesty one. Reminds me of my daughter. Not,” she added with a nod toward Blaker, “his mother. Very well. The entire fee is yours, not a credit missing.” She snapped at one of the guards who came forward with a bag and handed it to Din, who was dazed by the exchange. “My goodwill only extends so far, however. Leave now before I turn you into the Moff.”

Din’s insides went cold. He saw a flash of shock cross Cara’s face before she scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“I know who you are,” the client said haughtily. “You don’t exactly fly under the radar, looking like _that_ , the both of you. I suggest you don’t linger in this system… there are more loyalists here than I think you would care for.”

“Thank you,” Din replied quickly, his heart racing.

All he could think about in that moment was getting them out of there. The old woman hadn’t indicated that she knew what was in the carrier, and he didn’t want to find out what would happen if she did. He grabbed Cara’s hand and pulled her toward the door, her mouth still hanging open as if she wasn’t done arguing. She let herself be pulled, though, looking over her shoulder at the client. When they burst out of the house and onto the street, Din let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He looked around quickly but didn’t see any evidence of Imps.

“I can’t believe you said ‘thank you’ to that hag,” Cara said, bringing his attention back to her. She stood with her arms crossed in front of her, a smirk on her face.

“ _I_ can’t believe you went off on her like that,” he shot back. “Weren’t you the one who was just telling me not to defend your honor? What if she had been angry? Called the Imps on us?”  
  
She shrugged. “I had it under control. We coulda taken those guards anyway.”

“We got lucky,” he insisted. “It won’t happen again.”

He glanced around again and then started walking down the road, eager to get away from the house. The carrier zoomed off beside him, and after a few steps Cara appeared at his side. They didn’t speak until they’d put a good deal of distance between them and the client’s house, wandering down busy streets.

“You think I’m overreacting,” Din said eventually, looking out of the corner of his visor at her. Cara seemed stiff walking beside him, like she was holding something in.

She sighed and her shoulders dropped. “No, I think I’m an idiot. What is wrong with me? I never used to lose control like that. I sat in front of that Imp on Nevarro talking about how the Empire improves everything it touches and said _nothing_. But now…”

“Things change,” he said. He knew it all too well. The anger he’d felt at Blaker had shocked him. He’d always been unflappable, even-keeled to a fault. Now his emotions seemed to run too close to the surface and the smallest thing could perturb them. He looked down at the carrier, thinking about the sequence of events that had led them to this point. When he’d made that pivotal decision to rescue the kid, how he’d ended up on a backwater planet where she just happened to be hiding out. Din didn’t believe in Fate, but when he looked at Cara, something in him wondered.

“Where are we going?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

“To see if we can find any information on the Jedi.”

“You really think Skywalker would be here, with all these Imps around?”

Din shook his head. “No,” he admitted, “but that doesn’t mean that he wasn’t at some point. We came all the way out here, we might as well find out. Besides, I haven’t seen an Imp in a klick.”

As they turned another corner Cara opened her mouth to reply but stopped, staring at something behind him. He spun around and his eyes went wide. The wall behind him had formerly held an imperial propaganda mural, but it was almost indistinguishable underneath the layers of paint. Most of it was quite old and flaking away, but the image was unmistakable. A stylized orange bird with wings forming a circle filled most of the wall and X-ed out stormtrooper helmets surrounded it. The resemblance to the tattoo on Cara’s cheek was unmistakable, but there was something else about it that he couldn’t put his finger on. It seemed familiar somehow. Below it a single word was worked in Mandalorian script: AKAANIR.

“What is this?” Cara asked, her brows furrowed. “I’ve never seen Rebel graffiti like it before.”

“I don’t really know, but it’s… it’s Mandalorian,” he said quietly, hardly believing what he was seeing himself. He pointed down at the word. “It means ‘fight’ in Mando’a. But I don’t recognize this signet. This must have been done by the person that the client was talking about.”  
  
“The Artist,” she replied with a nod. “Makes sense, I guess. I’m surprised the Imps haven’t painted over it.”

Din looked around at the buildings around them. At a glance they appeared undecorated, but upon closer inspection minute, subtle symbols of the rebellion began to appear on the walls and doors. “I don’t think they’d be allowed to.”

He looked down at the carrier. The kid would be getting cranky by now, cooped up for so long, and it was unlikely any imperial remnants would be showing their faces on this edge of town. He tapped a button and the cover slid open. The kid immediately pulled himself forward and stuck his head out of the carrier, looking around with interest. He burbled happily and looked up at Din with a smile. Din couldn’t help but smile back even though the kid couldn’t see it. When he looked over at Cara he found that she was smiling down at the kid too. She raised her gaze to him with a smirk.

“I need a drink. Maybe we’ll find something at the cantina?” She gestured down the road to an unassuming building with a simple sign hung out front.

Din could hear the sound of clinking glasses and the low hum of conversation as they approached the cantina. When he opened the door the sunlight streamed into the dark room, sending their shadows stretching across the floor. As the door swung closed behind them the conversation halted suddenly and in the dim light Din could just make out that everyone had turned to stare at them. He could feel Cara tense up beside him in the overbearing silence.

“Been a while since I seen a sight like that,” an old man in the corner croaked, and just like that, it was as if nothing had happened. Everyone returned to their conversations and games, ignoring them.

Neither of them totally relaxed as they walked to the bar. The kid looked around with interest at the bar’s diverse patrons who, amazingly, seemed content to ignore him. Cara leaned casually on the bar, but Din could tell there was nothing casual about her attitude right now.

“Welcome!” the bartender greeted them with a wide smile. “Don’t mind them, we don’t get a lot of strangers around these parts. What can I get you?”

Cara shot a glance at Din, and he knew what she was feeling. The man’s extremely friendly demeanor was almost as disconcerting as the silence had been. He tried to shake it off; being recently reminded of your wanted status had a way of bringing out the paranoia in a person.

“Whisky,” Cara ordered, looking back at the bartender. “On the rocks. Whatever’s cheapest.”

The bartender looked at Din expectantly. Given that a Mandalorian had clearly spent time in the area, he was surprised that the bartender didn’t know he wouldn’t be drinking. “Milk for the kid.”

When the bartender had bustled off Cara leaned in toward him. “What do you make of this place?” she whispered.

Din shrugged slightly. “Out of the way. Off the grid. Maybe it was just that we’re strangers.”

“Maybe,” she muttered, not looking convinced. The bartender sat the tumbler of whisky in front of her and she sipped it. A look of surprise came over her face. “This isn’t the cheap stuff."

The bartender grinned at her. “Oh, now, you don’t want to drink that swill.”

“We can’t pay for this,” she told him, looking at him in disbelief.

“I wouldn’t take your money,” he replied. “Rebel soldiers don’t pay here.”

Cara was still regarding him with a mix of suspicion and incredulity, but he just smiled back at her. Then she looked at Din, as if he would confirm that this was insane. He just shrugged. Based on what they’d seen on the streets, it didn’t surprise him.

“Thanks,” she said eventually, letting a smile turn up the corners of her mouth. “You should be glad I don’t live here or I’d put you out of business.”

The bartender laughed heartily, and Din could see the rest of the tension leave her body. He grabbed the glass of milk and handed it to the kid, who slurped it down noisily. It was empty in seconds, so Din put it back on the bar. At this point it was not a surprise when the bartender refilled it.

“He’s a thirsty one,” the bartender remarked. “Never seen his like ‘round here before.”

“You’re not likely to. We’ve been trying to find his people with little luck,” Din explained.

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t help you there.”

“What about the Jedi?” Cara asked. “Are they around?”

The bartender looked at her in surprise. “Not for some years now. But you’d be better off talking to ol’ Nat over there. He’s the one who remarked when you came in. Knows more about these things than me.”

Nat turned cloudy eyes in their direction as they sat down across from him, but he seemed to look slightly past them. He must be almost or entirely blind, and yet he’d claimed to have seen them when they entered.

“What did you mean, ‘a sight like that’?” Cara asked without introduction, leaning toward the old man.

He smiled toothlessly at her as his eyes tracked over her face. Din got the impression he saw more than it seemed. “A Mandalorian and a rebel, traveling together. Thought the Mandos usually kept to themselves these days.”  
  
“We do,” Din confirmed with a glance at Cara. “But she is part of my clan.”

Nat nodded as if this was completely normal. Din wondered if it was because he didn’t know any better, or if he _did._ He looked at Din hopefully. “Do you know Clan Wren? Sabine? Is she alive?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know,” Din replied. He knew of Clan Wren, of course, but even before the purge his tribe had been insular, and now…

“Is she The Artist?” Cara asked.

“That is what they called her,” the old man confirmed, nodding slowly. “She had a real talent. Almost as good as her talent for taking out Imps.”

“Did you fight with her?”  
  
Nat looked at Cara and chuckled. “I was too old, even then. But I helped where I could. They were fond of this cantina, do you know? They used to sit over there and drink, her and her rebel friends. What a group they were. Mandalorian, Jedi, Twi’lek…"

“She drank here? Without her helmet?” Din asked in surprise. He knew that not all Mandalorians were as strict as his tribe—the Armorer had said as much—but he hadn’t thought that meant removing the helmet in public.

“Course she did,” Nat replied. “Always changin’ the color of her hair…”

“Wait a minute,” Cara jumped in, “you said she was hanging out with a Jedi? Are they still here? Do you know a man named Skywalker?”

“Afraid I don’t. Not many Jedi around anymore.”

“Damn,” Cara swore under her breath.

“You could always check the temple. Not much there anymore, but you never know.”  
  
“There’s a temple?”

“Oh yeah, up in the northern hemisphere.”

“Din, did you hear that?”

“What?” Din shook his head slightly. He’d barely heard their conversation about the Jedi. His head was swimming with the implications of what the old man had said. And not just that, but _how_ he had said it, like it was obvious. And Cara hadn’t even blinked. With effort, he shoved the thoughts out of his head and tried to focus on what Cara was saying.

“The Jedi temple? We should check it out,” she repeated. He could tell from the look she was giving him that his inattention had not gone unnoticed.

“Yeah, of course,” Din replied, nodding. His inner conflict over finding the Jedi flared, but if Nat could be believed, Wren had worked with a Jedi here.

“No I don’t want to get your hopes up,” Nat added. “Heard it collapsed. You’ll need to find the wolves to get you there.”

“What do you mean, wolves?” Cara asked, her brow furrowed.

The old man grinned toothlessly again. “Wolves! Loth-wolves! You’ll find them on the edge of town. They’ll take you to the temple.”

“Can’t we just… fly there? In our ship?”

“Just find the wolves,” Nat asserted again. With that, he nodded a few times and looked down into his drink.

Cara and Din looked at each other, then stood. “Thanks for your help,” Cara said.

The old man said nothing, and they wondered if he was even awake. But as they turned he spoke again. “May the Force be with you.”

* * *

Cara had been sure that the wolves were metaphorical. When they had arrived at the edge of town all they found was a vast prairie. A low mountain range loomed in the distance, but there was no sign of habitation for kilometers. They skirted the edge of town for a few klicks, but everything was quiet in the sleepy settlement. Cara was just about to suggest that they go back to the ship and try to find the temple themselves when a pair of massive wolves appeared out of nowhere.

“Din!” Cara shouted, but he’d seen them as soon as she did. He’d already unslung his rifle and trained it on one of the huge beasts. She pointed her blasters at the other as they backed slowly away. She had her doubts about how effective the guns would be. The wolves stood much taller than either of them, with large shaggy heads that looked as if they could swallow a human nearly whole.

“This is hardly a civilized way to greet your guides,” one of the wolves rumbled, shaking its mane slightly.

Cara glanced at Din, whose attention was riveted on the wolves. “You just heard that wolf speak, right?” she asked.

“If he didn’t he’s deaf,” the other wolf said.

“What do you want?” Din demanded.

The wolves looked at each other, then back at the humans. “You came looking for us, did you not?”

“Well, yeah,” Cara replied, her blasters wavering. “We didn’t think…”

“That wolves were wolves?” She could swear that they were smirking, if that was a thing wolves could do.

“Well it sounds stupid when you say it like that,” she huffed. She lowered her blasters but didn’t holster them. Despite their appearance, the wolves seemed to radiate some kind of benevolence. Anyway, if they wanted to kill Cara and Din her blasters wouldn’t stop them, that much was clear.

“How did you know we were looking for you?” Din asked, his rifle still trained on them.

“He told us,” the wolf said, looking right at the kid in the carrier between them. “We are creatures of the force, as he is.”

Cara and Din looked down to see the child smiling broadly at the wolves. It was apparently the assurance he needed, because finally he dropped the muzzle of the rifle.

“We’re trying to get to the Jedi temple,” Din explained.

“There is little and less that remains there, but we will take you. One of you must carry the child.”

Din slung the rifle over his shoulder. Cara could read the hesitation in his body language. “How are we traveling?” he asked suspiciously.

“You must ride us.”  
  
Din and Cara looked at each other. This was getting weirder and weirder. “Look, can’t you just tell us where it is? Save us all the trouble.”  
  
One of the wolves shook his head. “No, it is hidden. Do not fear us. We promise no harm will come to you.”

“I’m not afraid,” Din replied defiantly.

“Perhaps not for yourself, no. But nevertheless, your fear is palpable.”

“If you will not listen to us, listen to your child.”

Din looked at the kid, his confusion obvious. “He doesn’t speak.”

“He does if you know how to listen.”

“I don’t understand,” Cara said, shaking her head. None of this made any sense. And yet, what about their lives made sense anyway?

“Let us go to the temple,” the wolf suggested. “Perhaps what you find there will help.”

She looked at Din, who gave a small nod. He leaned down and picked up the kid, strapping him securely onto his front. So they were really doing this. They walked over to the two wolves cautiously, and the kid burbled happily. The wolves knealt down and allowed them to climb onto their backs. The thick fur was softer than she expected somehow. Once they were mounted the wolves set off without another word. For a long time the wolves alternated between walking and running, and Cara began wondering if this might take days, or weeks. They were totally unprepared for such a journey. Before too long they arrived at a rocky outcrop, however, and the wolves paused. Ahead lay a tunnel worked into the rock.

“You must hold on tightly,” Din’s wolf said.

Cara twined her fingers through her wolf’s thick mane, wondering just what was about to happen. As they approached the tunnel it seemed to glow with a kind of blue light. She almost asked the wolf what kind of tunnel this was, but before she could open her mouth the blue light enveloped them. She couldn’t seen Din or the kid; she could hardly tell which way was up. The wolf below her was her only anchor. Time seemed to disappear in the tunnel. She had no idea if she had been there for minutes or hours.

She must have blacked out because the next thing she knew she was waking on the back of the wolf, her hands still tangled in its fur. She looked over quickly and saw Din next to her, his head bobbing slightly. He was still out. The kid, however, was looking around animatedly, as if nothing had happened. After a few seconds Din bolted upright, clutching the kid protectively. He looked at Cara, and she smiled at him.

“What… was that?” he rasped, his voice thick.

“A hypertunnel,” his wolf answered, as if that explained everything.

Cara didn’t know how long they’d been in the tunnel, but it didn’t _feel_ like long. The sun was lower in the sky, but there were still hours left in the day. The landscape around them looked much the same as it had where they had started from, with the exception of large, spike-like rocks erupting from the ground. She didn’t see anything that looked like a temple, though. The wolves walked for a short distance longer, then they stopped.

“We are here,” her wolf said.

Cara slid down off his back and looked out at the empty landscape. “But there’s nothing here,” she said in confusion.

“Cara,” Din said quietly, and she turned. He’d dismounted and was standing a ways back from the edge of an immense chasm.

She walked over to stand next to him, peering over the edge. It was filled with rubble. A particularly large peaked rock jutted partly out, its base crumbled away.

“You could have told us it was gone,” she told the wolves sourly.

“Destroyed, yes. But not gone. The Force remains, if the walls do not.”

Din shook his head and looked back at the wolves. “What are we supposed to get out of this?”

“Some years ago the last Jedi came here and descended into the chasm. He left edified. So may you.”

Cara inched closer to the edge, looking for signs of a trail. The walls of the pit were nearly sheer for a good distance before they met the rubble, but it appeared someone had cut narrow steps into the face. It would be treacherous, but it could be done.

“Is this really a good idea? Taking the kid down there?” Cara asked Din.

Still strapped to Din’s front, the kid extended his hands toward the chasm and whined. Din sighed. “No, but I think we’re doing it anyway.”

The stairs were wider than they had appeared from above, but the yawning empty space next to them still made Cara’s heartbeat pound in her ears the entire way down. She went first, arguing that she didn’t have the kid so she could test the footing, but that meant that she couldn’t see them. Not knowing if they were still behind her significantly increased her anxiety about the descent. When she reached the relative safety of the rubble she turned and felt relief wash over her to see Din picking his way down the final steps with the kid grinning broadly on his chest. They moved carefully over the fallen stone toward the center of the pit and what was left of the temple.

“What now?” Cara asked, scanning the area. There was, as they had seen above, little left of the temple or what it had contained.

The kid had been getting more and more agitated, and now he squirmed fiercely. Din was forced to hold him tight to prevent him from escaping, but even that was getting more difficult. The kid stretched his arms out, reaching toward nothing, and Cara almost walked over to see what he was reaching toward before a massive hunk of rock levitated in the air and then crashed down again.

“Ok, fine, but if you get squished by a boulder I’m not coming after you,” Din grumbled as he pulled the kid out of the sling. He watched for a moment as the small creature toddled off rather rapidly, clambering over the fallen rocks. Then he turned to see Cara smirking at him. “What?”  
  
“You’re a bad liar,” she said.

He jutted the chin of his helmet out slightly in a look of defiance. “I’m not, when it matters.”

They watched as the kid climbed to the top of a boulder and just stood there. After a few moments when it was clear that he wasn’t going any further, Cara sat down on a chunk of rock. Din’s armor clattered slightly as he found another nearby. The kid was facing to the side and they could see his face in profile. There was a rapturous expression on his face. The minutes stretched on and the sun sank lower in the sky, but he barely moved a muscle.

“What do you think he’s doing?” she asked quietly after a while.

“I have no idea,” Din replied, shaking his head slowly. “But I wish he would hurry it up.”

The corners of her mouth twitched upwards. “Got somewhere to be?”  
  
“Yeah, not sitting out here in the middle of nowhere when it gets dark.”

They were silent then, both watching the kid. Eventually Cara spoke again. “So do you want to talk about it?”  
  
“About what?”

“About how you freaked out when you heard about that Mandalorian that removed her helmet.”

Din recoiled slightly, tilting his head. “I did not freak out,” he replied indignantly.

“A little bit,” she pressed, a wry grin on her face.

“I was just… surprised, is all,” he said warily. “I didn’t know that there were Mandalorians that were so cavalier about their faces.”

When he didn’t expand upon this, she asked, “Do you wish you could be like them?”

“No,” he answered quickly. “I swore an oath to my tribe, not theirs.”

“This isn’t about oaths. It’s about wishes.”

This time when he was silent for a stretch she waited him out. “Maybe. I don’t know,” he said at last. “Sometimes I do, and then I feel like I’ve betrayed the Way just by thinking about it.” He sighed. “Do we have to talk about this now?”

“What else are you going to do? Stare at the kid some more? You can’t keep this bottled up inside you.”

He nodded slightly, but didn’t reply. Then he kicked a rock and asked, “Do you?”  
  
“Do I what?” Cara asked, not following him.

“Wish I could be like them?”

Cara got up and moved to Din’s rock, which was barely big enough for them both to sit. She could feel the warmth of his body through the beskar as she wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling his body against hers. “I told you. I don’t need to see your face to know it. To know you. To love you. All I want is for you to be happy. So no, I don’t wish that if it would cause you pain. Don’t do anything just because of me.”

“Everything I do is because of you,” he said quietly, pulling her forehead to his helmet. “I would do anything for you.”

The words left Cara breathless. She swallowed hard and forced a smirk onto her lips. “I would have thought that some of what you do is because of that squirt.”

“That is true,” Din admitted. She heard him chuckle softly, then he sighed. “How did I get so lucky?”

“Dark magic?”

He looked down, shaking his head, and she could tell he was smiling. “I’m serious. I don’t feel like I deserve this.”  
  
“Join the club,” Cara said with a snort. She heard him inhale to speak, but cut him off. “Look, you’re gonna tell me that of course I deserve this, and I’m gonna say the same about you. So maybe we can trust each other on this one?

“See, now I really don’t think I deserve you,” Din laughed.

She put her hands on either side of his helmet. “If we weren’t in a weird ruin I’d yank this helmet off and kiss that sarcastic grin off your face.”

“Who says I’m being sarcastic? And anyone there’s no one out here.”

“C’mon,” she replied, smirking. “The wolves could look over the edge at any time, or the kid could turn toward us.”

“The kid knows not to look,” he argued.

Cara just shook her head. “Stop trying to goad me into it, silly.”

As if he’d heard them talking about him, the kid suddenly moved, climbing down off his perch and running as fast as his little legs would carry him over to them. He stopped in front of them, his arms held up in the air. Din reached down to pick him up and set the kid in his lap.

“What were you doing over there, huh?” Cara asked, stroking one of his ears.

The kid just cooed happily in response. She looked up at Din, who shrugged.

“Well, hopefully he got more than we did out of this. Let’s get out of here before it gets dark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some thoughts on Mandalorians and how what we see in the show fits into other canon:  
> It's unclear from what we know now how the Tribe on Nevarro fits into the whole Mandalorian world and how the Purge happened (or even when it happened). So my personal headcanon goes something like this: we know Din was rescued by Death Watch, who were a militant Mandalorian faction who for a while were exiled. Some of Clan Viszla, who were associated with Death Watch, are part of the Tribe now. So perhaps Din grew up in this orthodox, exiled, tribe of Death Watch members and the helmet thing isn't really a result of the Purge but just a result of differences in belief structure in the Mandalorian world. He would have taken his oath before the Purge happened, after all. Thus the restrictions on showing his face are specific to his tribe and not something that characterizes Mandalorians in general.
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments! I love hearing your thoughts!


	11. Chapter 11

_**What the Child Saw** _

He’d never felt it quite like this before, the special energy that seemed to imbue everything he did. It was more intense here, pulling him to this very spot. It felt like an itch he couldn’t scratch, and only as he got closer did he feel any relief. When he’d finally struggled out of his papa’s arms he scrambled to the center of it, not knowing what he’d find.

“A sight I never thought I’d see, this is,” a voice said. It sounded old.

At first he couldn’t figure out where it was coming from but when he turned around in a circle there was a blue, translucent figure that hadn’t been there before. The child didn’t know what to make of it. The old man was short and squat, with green skin and long pointy ears that stuck out to the side. The old man looked like him, but old. He’d never seen anyone who looked like him before, not that he could remember anyway.

“Who are you?” the child asked curiously.

“Master Yoda, I am,” the old man replied. “Who are you, the question is?”

The child furrowed his brow. It was hard to follow Master Yoda’s speech. He didn’t talk at all like his papa or mama. “I don’t know,” he said, tilting his head.

“Hmm hmmm. The reason you have come, is that it?”

The child nodded slowly. “Papa says we are looking for my people.”

“Almost gone, our people are. Very far away, the rest,” Master Yoda said solemnly. “Be old like me before you found them, you would.”

He absorbed this, considering what it meant. It seemed ok with him; he never knew any of them anyway. “What are Jedi?” he asked.

Master Yoda looked thoughtful. “Many years ago, an order of knights, there were. Celebrated the light and fought the dark, they did. The Force, they used.”  
  
“What’s the Force?”

Master Yoda smiled at him. “Using it now, you are. The energy between things, it is. Surrounds us all, it does. Born knowing it, our people are.”

“Oh,” the child replied. He didn’t feel like it was much of an answer. But he supposed that he knew what Master Yoda was talking about. “So the Jedi are gone?”  
  
“One, there is left. My student,” Master Yoda said pensively. “Perhaps teach you, he will.”

“Teach me what?”

“To use the Force.”

The child smiled. “I already know how to use the Force.”

“Use it, you do,” Master Yoda agreed. “But know it, you do not. Find Skywalker, and know you will.”

“Know what?”

“If a Jedi you will be.”

“Oh,” the child replied again. Did he even want to be a Jedi? He didn’t think so. He wanted to be a Mandalorian, like papa. He looked back at Master Yoda, who was leaning on a spectral cane and squinting at him. “I have one more question.”

“Ask it, you will.”

“Are you my father?”

Master Yoda looked at him for a long time, and the child wondered if he would answer. “No,” he said eventually. He nodded to the side. “Your father, he is.”

He looked over to see his papa and mama sitting on the same rock, hugging. He wanted to hug them too. He turned back to Master Yoda but the old man had disappeared. He wondered what to do now. He wished he could tell his papa what he had learned. Maybe someday. Right now he couldn’t be bothered to worry about it. He took off as fast as his legs could carry him toward his parents, anxious to be in their arms.

* * *

“Why did we stop?” Din asked, looking around. The ship was still about a klick away, and they could just see the top of it peeking out over the next rise.

The wolf underneath him was tense, every muscle coiled tight. “Something is wrong,” he growled, his words barely audible above the rumble of his voice.

“We feel a disturbance in the Force,” Cara’s wolf added.

The child, still strapped on Din's chest, whined and pinned his ears down. Din didn’t know anything about any _Force_ , but a sense of unease was creeping over him all the same, sending a chill down his spine. He looked over at Cara to find her staring at him with brows furrowed.

“Is there another way to approach? Something less exposed,” Din suggested. The prairie in front of them offered little cover, but the ship was not too far from the outbuildings that dotted the edge of the city.

“We should not approach,” his wolf replied.

“Well that’s our ship, so we’re going over there with or without you,” Din shot back, annoyed. Surely these giant wolves could take down almost anything. Why were they hesitating?

The wolves looked at each other. “This is not a small matter. We must take it to our pack for consideration. But we understand that you must do what you must. We will take the child and keep him safe.”  
  
“Why should we trust you?” Cara demanded.

“If we had wanted to kill the child you could not have stopped us. But we do not. We will treat him as one of our own pups. We will die for him.”

Din looked down at the kid. The expression on his face was unmistakably worry, but somehow Din could tell it was not about the wolves. “Ok,” he agreed reluctantly. What other choice did they have? Take the kid into some unknown danger? The wolf beneath him knealt down and Din slid off. The kid clung to him as he tried to pull him off his chest, and he almost changed his mind. But when he sat the kid on the wolf the little creature leaned down and hugged the giant beast, burying his face in its fur. If Din had any lingering doubts, that settled them.

“The wolves will take care of you,” he said gently, stroking his hand over the kid’s back. “Just until we know it’s safe.”

He turned to see Cara sliding off of her wolf. She landed lightly on the ground, one of her hands laid on her blaster. Without another word, the wolves ran off, leaving them alone on the plain. It seemed impossible that creatures so large could disappear so fast, but they were gone in the blink of an eye. Din realized he didn’t know how he’d contact them again when it was safe.

“I’d ask if you were sure about this, but the point is moot,” Cara said wryly.

Din looked down at the empty carrier, which they had picked up on their way back to the ship. With a tap he closed the lid. “Think it will work again?”

Cara shrugged. “Who knows. We don’t even know that it’s the Imps.”

“Who else would it be?”

She didn’t reply. No one else, of course. “So, what’s the plan,” she asked eventually. “Use the buildings for cover?”  
  
Din nodded. “It’s almost dark. Maybe we can catch them by surprise. With luck there won’t be many of them.”

Luck, as it turned out, was not on their side. As they approached silently through the buildings they heard a commotion from the clearing where they’d parked the Razor Crest. It sounded like a hundred men at least. Dread settled in the pit of his stomach. Getting through that many seemed hopeless, but what else could they do? Hide in the town, hoping no one would sell them out? Try to find another ship off the planet? He knew they would be monitoring all departures. No: they had walked into a trap, and they weren’t walking out until the hunter was destroyed.

At least surprise was still on their side. They crouched behind a low wall, listening to the Imps. The muffled voices of stormtroopers filled the air, directing this weapon or that into place. Din wondered if _he_ was there. Gideon. He supposed it was inevitable.

“How many do you think you could take?” he whispered to her.

Cara cocked an eyebrow at him. “Realistically? Maybe twenty. You?”

“Same,” he sighed. Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself up slightly and peeked over the top of the wall. A veritably hive of stormtroopers stood between them and the ship. There was nowhere to hide on the open field.

“Maybe we can draw them into the streets,” she suggested. “Might be about to take more of them out before they realize what’s happening.”

Din nodded. It was as good a plan as any. “Let’s go back a couple of blocks. There was anarrow alley that might serve. I’ll set a charge and we can pick them off from above.”

Two empty building stood on either side of the alley, glass long blown out of the windows. Cara didn’t have a rifle, but she’d do what she could with her blasters. Din set himself up opposite her and a few floors higher, rifle trained on the opening of the narrow passage. He counted down, slowing his breathing to match.

The charge’s explosion echoed loudly in the confined space. Immediately he heard shouting and footsteps as the troopers ran toward the blast. They poured into the alley and he picked off ten before they realized they were being fired upon. He could see Cara below him, firing rapidly into the crowd. The stormtroopers were spinning in place now, looking up into the surrounding buildings. It would only be a matter of time before they spotted her.

“Get out of there,” he hissed into the comlink he’d given her before they had split up.

He saw her give a short nod, then she disappeared from the window as blaster bolts began striking the edges. Din picked off five more but stopped when he saw them begin to break away, trying to enter the buildings. He hurled a small grenade into the crowd and retreated from his window, heading down to the ground floor.

Din didn’t know how many they’d incapacitated so far, or how many there were left. But the element of surprise was gone now, so it had better be enough. As he reached the bottom floor he hid in the shadows, avoiding the sweep of lights as the troopers looked for him. _Pop pop pop_. Three more before he slid to a new shadow. He looked down at the timer on his arm; they’d set a rendezvous in ten minutes back at the wall on the outskirts of the clearing where they’d hidden the carrier.

He moved silently through the streets, taking out stormtroopers as he could, hiding from view. By the time he’d gotten back to the rendezvous point he was two minutes late. Cara wasn’t there. He hissed her name into the comlink, but there was no answer. _Ok,_ he thought, _she probably just got held up_. He would wait here; running off back into the buildings to look for her would like as not result in them slipping past each other without realizing it. He could hear the shouts of the stormtroopers running down the empty streets as they searched. The minutes ticked on. He hailed her again, but there was not so much as a whisper in reply. He tried to tell himself that she was fine, that she was just laying low to avoid detection, but he could feel his thoughts spiraling out of control. What if she wasn’t responding because she was captured? Dead? Captured _and_ dead?

Quietly, he slipped back into the streets. He didn’t care about the risk; he had to find her. To his surprise, the streets around the alley where they’d set the trap were nearly empty. The stormtroopers had all moved off to the south, seemingly looking for something. Or someone. A spark of hope glimmered in his heart; maybe they hadn’t found her after all. He headed in that direction, desperate to find her before they did. A few streets further on, Din paused when he heard a stormtrooper talking over his comms. Only snatches of his conversation were audible.

“… searched the east streets…” the trooper said. “… the target… captured… Yeah of course… dead… affirmative…”

Din didn’t hear any more; his heart was pounding too loudly in his ears. The bile rising in his throat threatened to choke him. It seemed like his whole world was crashing down around him. His worst fears had come true. There were too many, more than he had thought. They’d only succeeded in taking out a small fraction of them and stirring them up like a bunch of angry hornets. And for what? Cara was dead. The kid was in danger as long as Gideon lived. Suddenly, the way before him seemed obvious. That he would die that day was a given, but if he could take that imperial son of a bitch out with him, it would be worth it. The kid would be safe.

Din moved rapidly through the streets back the way he had come, pausing only to pick up the carrier from it’s hiding place. Perhaps it would provide enough distraction. Walking purposefully, he strode into the light filling the clearing. Almost immediately the stormtroopers froze, all of their rifles trained on him at once. Gideon stood in the center of the clearing, a sickening smile twisting his lips as he watched Din approach.

“Have we come to our senses, then?” Gideon purred triumphantly.

“Something like that,” Din growled as he stopped several meters short of the Moff. “What did your men do to my partner?”

Gideon shrugged. “How should I know? But you’re not really in the position to make demands.”

“Try me.” Din pulled his blaster and pointed it at the carrier.

Gideon laughed at him. “That is the emptiest threat I’ve ever seen. You nearly died for this creature before. Why would you kill it now? No. Here is the only deal you will get: give the asset to me, and I will make sure you die quickly.”

Din swiveled his blaster and pointed it at Gideon instead. “I can guarantee that you will not.” The stormtroopers surrounding them lunged forward, but Gideon held up a hand.

“Even if you were to succeed, you’d only be writing death warrants for you and the creature. My troops would kill you both.”

 _You can kill me_ , Din thought, _but you’ll never get the kid_. His finger tightened on the trigger.

Suddenly, an explosion rocked the edge of the clearing, sending stormtrooper bodies flying. One slammed into Din, sending his blaster careening out of his hand and the carrier zooming away. In the mayhem, he pulled a knife and lunged at Gideon, but the Moff would not be taken by surprise. He blocked the blade, the movement knocking Din off balance. Gideon pulled his blaster, but Din was on him before he could raise it. The stormtroopers rushed toward the edges of the clearing, leaving Din and Gideon locked in combat. Distantly, Din could hear the sounds of battle.

He rushed the Moff again and this time his blade made contact. He slashed across Gideon’s chest, leaving a red stripe on his front as blood welled from the shallow gash. A strange fire glinted in Gideon’s eyes, then. They were in close quarters, and Din didn’t see the other blaster until it was too late. The bolt rang hard against the beskar of his chest plate, the force of it pushing him backwards. He staggered away trying to regain the breath that had been knocked out of him.

Gideon pulled himself up straighter, ignoring the wound. Din watched as he pulled a small metal cylinder off his waist. Was it a bomb? Some kind of new weapon? An evil smile twisted the corners Gideon’s mouth upward as he flicked a switch and a strange, long blade extended out of the cylinder. It was impossibly black, but somehow glowing at the same time. Din had never seen it before, but he knew immediately what it was. Every Mandalorian would.

He was so shocked at seeing the Darksaber in person that he didn’t react right away when Gideon strode forward toward him. He swung the saber hard and Din dodged out of the way just in time. He crouched and ignited his flamethrower, but the weapon was hardly precision, and Gideon just sidestepped it and kept coming, swinging the weapon again and again. Din had nothing to counter with, nothing that he knew would stop it. His knife seemed woefully inadequate in his hands. He was being backed into a corner, he knew, and soon he wouldn’t have anywhere else to go. Desperate, he sent the carrier flying as fast as it would go toward Gideon. It slammed into the Moff’s side, but it was light and the force of it’s impact was minimal. Gideon sliced the top of it off, but the look of triumph on his face slid off when he saw it was empty.

“ _Where is the asset_?” he snarled, turning on Din again.

“He’s not,” Din huffed as he struggled out of the way of the blade, “an asset.”

Gideon pressed on, punctuating his words with slashes of the Darksaber. “The asset… belongs… to me.”

“He never will!” Din yelled as he lunged forward again. His blade connected with Gideon’s arm, but the wrong one. The attack had put Din off balance and he dropped to one knee in front of his adversary.

That, was apparently, all the Moff could take. Roaring, he raised the saber above his head and brought it down hard. Out of habit Din raised his forearm to block the blade. The shriek of it hitting beskar was blood-curdling. Time seemed to slow down as he watched the blade sink into the vambrace; the beskar slowed the weapon but it couldn’t stop it. White hot pain bloomed in his vision as the saber dug into his bone. He almost didn’t realize that Gideon had yanked it out his arm. Then the air was knocked out of Din again as Gideon kicked him in the chest. His body slammed hard into the ground, causing his his head to knock around inside his helmet. Stars flashed behind his eyelids and his head rang.

The pain in his arm, the lack of oxygen, the concussion… it was all too much. He was going to die, and he was going to fail. He felt a weight on his chest and forced his eyes opened to see Gideon standing above him, foot pinning him to the ground. Din realized somewhere he’d lost his knife. His hands pulled at the boot on his chest, but he lacked the strength to move it. Pain lanced through his arm as he struggled. Ignoring his efforts, Gideon knealt down so that one of his knees held Din against the ground, saber still in his hand.

“I will cut off bits of you until you tell me where the asset is,” he told Din with quiet deadliness.

Din could hardly hear him over the ringing in his head. “Just… kill me now,” he hissed.

“Definitely not. Maybe I’ll just relieve you of this,” he threatened, his free hand grasping the edge of Din’s helmet. The blood dripping down Gideon’s arm smeared across the helmet, leaving dark fingerprints on the beskar. He pulled it upward slowly and Din felt the cool air breeze over his upper neck. The welcome fresh air did nothing to offset the visceral panic shooting through him.

Din’s uninjured arm swept the ground, feeling desperately for anything. Suddenly his fingers landed on something: a blaster, by the feel of it. Aiming in his current position and state was out of the question. Mustering what was left of his strength, he swung it hard and connected with Gideon’s sword hand. The Darksaber went skittering across the clearing and Gideon screamed furiously. He slammed Din’s head on the ground and finally everything went black.

* * *

Cara made it out of the building and behind cover seconds before the stormtroopers came running around the corner. From her position she could see them each entering the building to search for her. It wouldn’t be long before they discovered she wasn’t there anymore. She looked at her clock. Ten minutes to rendezvous. It was possible that she might be able to sneak around them, but the majority of the troopers were now between her and the meeting point. It seemed an unlikely prospect. Her best option was probably to draw their attention and try to give them the runaround.

They had stopped filing into the building, no doubt because they’d been told it was empty. If she had a rifle she’d have no problem picking them off as they exited, but the blasters were less accurate. She’d do her best. One appeared in the door and she caught him in the leg. He dropped do the ground and the others began pushing out, trying to figure out where it had come from. She managed to wound another six before they’d locked onto her position. As she melted into the shadows she watched the stormtroopers fan out and circle around her last position, trying to cut her off.

She slipped around another building as a group of them walked past, oblivious to her presence. But there were too many; for every meter forward she was forced back two. Somehow they always seemed to be in her way, making the easiest route impossible. Her movement was basically sideways, tracking her toward the other side of the clearing and not to the rendezvous. She ducked around a corner again as a group of troopers walked into the street she had previous occupied.

“Cara!” Din’s voice hissed over her comlink. She looked down at her watch: she was late.

She didn’t dare reply. Even a whisper might give her away. She wondered what he would do now, if he would wait for her. After a few more minutes he hailed her again, but she still couldn’t risk making any sounds. She wished that there was some way she could get a message to him. Surely he wouldn’t do anything rash…? He had the kid to think about after all. She pressed on, continuing the cat-and-mouse game through the buildlings. Maybe if she could get to the edge clearing she could signal to him. As she neared, the sounds of battle prep reached her ears. She wished she could climb a building to get a view of what was going on, but doing so would certainly be a death trap. As she ducked behind a crumbling wall, a cluster of troopers trudged past.

“… we have new orders,” one of them was saying into his comms. “If you find the targets, they are to be captured. But don’t try to take them on your own. The woman you can go ahead and kill, but don’t take out the Mandalorian until we secure the asset. Do you confirm?”

So they’d be shooting to kill. After the troops had passed she emerged from her hiding spot, considering her options. She was about to slip around another corner when the air was filled with the sound of a hundred stormtroopers cocking their guns. The remaining troops that had been looking for her dropped their search and ran off to the clearing. She chanced a position that would give her a line of sight, but would leave her completely exposed. The stormtoopers in the clearing were all focused on something else, though. She followed the trajectory of their guns, and what she saw made her blood run cold.

Din stood in the center of the clearing, carrier at his side. Moff Gideon was only paces away. Din’s posture was defiant as he faced his foe, but Cara could see something else: the death wish of a broken man. What had happened? Was it the kid? Was it… her? Did he think she was dead?

In that moment, the only thing that mattered was keeping him from throwing his life away. She was one woman against an army, but it would have to be enough. Unclipping a grenade from her belt, she hurled it hard at the backs of the gathered stormtroopers and ducked around the corner. The explosion rumbled through wall at her back and in the aftermath she could hear shouting and screaming. She took a deep breath and counted down: three, two, one…

Rounding the corner, she took off running at top speed toward the wreckage of the explosion. Bodies lay strewn about, blood running through cracked white armor. The first few meters were easy, but the explosion bought her less time than she had hoped. Another group of stormtroopers appeared out of the dust, these ones in black armor. She remembered them from Nevarro: decidedly harder to kill. She ran harder, hoping to outpace them. A blaster bolt winged off her beskar epaulet, but a second slammed into her lower back, sending burning pain lancing along her spine. She stumbled and they surrounded her, but she wasn’t done. Four fell to her blaster at close range before one of the remaining five managed to knock it out of her hand. With a sweeping kick she knocked one backward and wrenched the gun out of his hand. Four to go.

But not four, not really. There were so many left in the clearing, more than she could possibly handle alone. She was so surrounded she had no idea where Din was, or if he was already dead. A feeling of hopelessness crept over her, but she couldn’t stop. Not if there was a chance he was alive. And if he wasn’t, well… she’d take down as many of these assholes as she could before she joined him. Which seemed like it would be happening sooner than later. Every trooper she took out was replaced by an identical one, as if she’d done nothing at all.

Cara didn’t even see the source of the searing pain in the side of her thigh. Her knee collapsed under her and she lost her grip on the gun. The stormtrooper she’d been aiming at lunged toward her, pushing his gun in her face. Yanking the knife out of her boot, she plunged it upward under his helmet and red hot blood gushed onto her arm. Then, suddenly, the trooper disappeared in a blur of snarling fur.

Struggling to her feet, Cara turned quickly in a circle and stared in amazement. People wearing rebel insignia—some of them she recognized from the cantina—were rushing into the clearing, guns blazing alongside a large pack of even larger wolves. The Loth-wolves rent the stormtroopers limb from limb, seemingly unaffected by the blaster bolts.

“Sorry we’re late,” said a small woman carrying a huge gun. She blasted a couple more stormtroopers, then turned back to Cara. “We didn’t know the Imps were out here on the edge of town until we heard the blasting.”

Cara was at a loss for words. That these people would come risk their lives for some offworlders they didn’t even know… it was unbelievable. But they were here. Before Cara could even thank her, the woman took off again to help a compatriot.

Despite the reinforcements, they were still outnumbered at least four to one, and there was still an army of people between her and Din. She ran toward the last place she’d seen him, ignoring the wounds she’d sustained and struggling through the lines of stormtroopers. She was nearly to the edge of the fighting when she heard a furious scream and a shriek so unnatural that it covered her in goose bumps. She screamed his name, but she might as well have said nothing. The sounds of battle swallowed her voice.

When she burst through the mass of people her forward momentum sent her tumbling to her hands and knees. She looked up, gasping for air. Din lay on the ground, maybe 100 meters in front of her, supine under Gideon’s knee. He wasn’t moving, but the idea that he was dead was impossible to her. Her brain refused to compute it. In one hand the Moff held a kind of weapon she’d never seen or heard of before. It looked almost like a sword, but the blade seemed to be composed of some substance that could be both light and dark at the same time. Suddenly she wondered if she was in a dream. None of this seemed like it could be real.

Every part of her body was screaming in pain. She willed herself to get up, but her muscles didn’t seem to listen. She watched Gideon reach down and grab the edge of Din’s helmet and begin lifting upward, but before he could do any more Din moved, grabbing something off the ground and knocking the weapon out of Gideon’s hand. The blade went skittering across the ground and stopped only a few meters from her. With one last surge of energy she pushed herself onto her feet, yelling in pain and anger. As she sprinted past the strange sword she snatched the handle off the ground. It weight practically nothing and gave off a low hum as it sliced through the air. She ran on, gripping it tightly. Gideon slammed Din’s head onto the ground and took hold of the helmet again, clearly intent on pulling it off. Cara lept forward to cover the last couple of meters and crashed into Gideon’s back, plunging the blade through his chest. It met no resistance as it emerged on the other side: not his armor, not his bones. She yanked it out and stood back as Gideon fell onto his back, eyes wide.

“ _You_ ,” he gasped in shock, his hand over the wound. There was so little blood… it didn’t make any sense to her. Nothing about the weapon made any sense.

Cara didn’t care that he would be dead in minutes. She bent over him and plunged the blade into his chest again, watching as the life fled from his eyes. She stood there for a second, half in shock herself of what she’d done, until all the rage drained from her body and was replaced by blind panic.

“Din! Din!” she cried frantically as she collapsed onto her knees next to him.

Dropping the weapon, she pushed her hands up along his neck. He had to be alive. He had to be. Her hands were shaking so fiercely that at first she couldn’t feel anything. The edges of her vision seemed to be growing dark, and she could no longer hear the din of battle behind her. The outside world fell away, and it was only the two of them. She leaned down and rested her forehead on his helmet, breathing heavily. The unmistakable smell of beskar and sweat, the smell of _him_ , filled her nostrils. She took a deep breath, letting it wash over her. Her hands stilled, and finally she felt it: his pulse, weak but present. She exhaled heavily and collapsed onto his chest, hugging him tightly. When she buried her face in his neck she felt tears she didn’t know she had shed smear across her cheeks.

She didn’t know how much time had passed when she felt someone grabbing her shoulders, trying to pull her up. Her arms tightened around him, clinging desperately. She didn’t care who they were or what they wanted: she wasn’t ever letting him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things:
> 
> 1\. Writing Yoda-speech is very difficult.  
> 2\. Writing interesting action/fighting/battles is perhaps even more difficult than Yoda-speech.  
> 3\. I promise I'll stop putting Din and Cara into near-death situations soon.
> 
> Ok, that was three things. Anyway this chapter was super hard to write and I'm not really happy with it, but here it is nonetheless. There will be more feelings/romance in the next chapters, I promise. ;)


	12. Chapter 12

Din’s eyes fluttered open, letting in soft rays of light that filtered through the visor of his helmet. There was a ceiling above him, and slowly he became aware of a thin mattress underneath his body. He could no longer feel the weight of his armor; instead, a light blanket covered him. Everything was fuzzy. What had happened? How had he gotten here? Was he dead? With effort, he tried to push himself into some semblance in a sitting condition. Exquisite pain lanced up his arm from his forearm, vastly overwhelming the dull soreness from the rest of his body. He looked down to see his arm wrapped in a thick, blood-soaked bandage. So, not dead then.

His mind felt sluggish as he tried to remember how he’d gotten there. A thick haze seemed to sit over his recollection of the previous night. Or maybe it was longer ago… who knew how long he’d been out. Slowly, events began to materialize. He remembered Gideon kneeling above him. He remembered the Darksaber cutting into his forearm. He remembered squaring off across the field against impossible odds. He remembered… Cara was dead.

With a choked sob, he tore off his helmet and buried his face in his hands. He’d been numb when he’d confronted Gideon that night. He’d bottled the emotions away and all he had let out was the rage, like he had done all his life. It was not so this morning; his tears fell freely, squeezing their way past his hands and dripping down onto the blanket. Pain shot through his chest as he was wracked with sobs, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his heart. Even the agony of his arm paled. How could he go on, now that she was gone? It felt impossible. He’d failed at everything. At keeping her safe, no doubt at killing Gideon… he’d even managed to fail at dying.

“You seem pretty sad for someone who won,” said a familiar voice from the doorway.

Din ripped his hands from his face, his eyes going wide. She was there, leaning against the doorframe, her eyes trained just below his face. He had to be dreaming. Maybe hallucinating from the pain. But then why would he imagine her with a crutch in her hand and bandages wrapped around her body? He didn’t dare to let himself hope.

“Cara?” he croaked, his voice rough with tears, “is it… is it really you?”

She smiled gently at him, tilting her head. “Who else would it be, silly?”

“You… you were dead,” he huffed, still breathing heavily. “You… they said… it can’t be…”

Cara limped over to his bedside, using the crutch with as much spite for it as he’d ever seen. She was wearing a pair of light shorts, exposing a large bandage wrapped around her thigh a hand’s width above her left knee. She lowered herself slowly to sit next to him on the bed, clearly favoring the leg. He almost didn’t want to touch her, he was so sure that it would destroy the illusion. His hand trembled fiercely as he reached out toward her ever so slowly, as if he was afraid if he moved too quickly she’d disappear. After a minute she intercepted him, apparently tired of waiting. He inhaled sharply when she grabbed his hand, her grip solid and real.

“Hey,” she said softly.

The word seemed to cut down to the bone, shredding away any remaining reserve he had. Without really meaning to he collapsed into her arms, his chest heaving as he sobbed this time in relief. Cara held him tightly and he pressed his face into her neck, his tears hot against her cool skin. Din hadn’t cried like this since he was a child, never let himself feel this kind of raw emotion, and now it was all pouring out. He couldn’t have stopped it if he tried.

“It’s ok,” Cara whispered, rubbing his back and tangling her fingers through his hair. “It’s ok, I’m here.”

Din took a long, shuddery breath and pulled away slightly to look at her. Her eyes were trained expertly down away from his face, even in this moment, as she wiped her thumbs over his cheeks and rubbed away his messy tears. He wanted nothing more than to lift her chin and force her gaze onto his face, to lock eyes with her right now and stare into each other’s souls.

“Cara,” he breathed, before he could talk himself out of it. “Look at me.”

“I am looking at you,” she replied, staring at his chest.

He shook his head slowly. “No, I mean _look_ at me. At my face.”

“Hell no!” she responded sharply, causing him to start in surprise. “Didn’t we just talk about this? I am not letting you throw away your creed for me.”

“I’d throw away my life for you.”

Cara’s lips twisted in something like disappointment. “Yeah, you tried that. I’d rather you not. I didn’t stab a guy through the chest with some mystical weapon to keep you from being unmasked for you to just throw it all away.”  
  
“You _what_?” Din said, the discussion of his creed momentarily forgotten.

She arced one of those perfect brows at him. “Yeah, well, after you knocked whatever that thing was out of Gideon’s hand, I grabbed it and stabbed him with it.” She shrugged as if it was nothing, as if she hadn’t just used a sacred Mandalorian weapon to save his life. But she clearly had no idea what it was.

“He’s… dead? Really?” He tried to keep the incredulity out of his voice, but Gideon had been a spectre, haunting him for months since he found out that the Moff had survived the TIE fighter crash on Nevarro. That he was dead was just another impossible thing in the list of impossibilities. Maybe he _was_ dreaming.

“Really really,” she answered.

“And you’re alive.”

Cara laughed at him, a sparkling sound full of joy and mirth. It washed over him, sending warmth spreading to the tips of his fingers and toes, and he finally was certain that she was really there. They were still tangled in each other’s arms, bodies pressed together, so it was an easy thing to pull her into the kiss he so badly needed. She was still laughing into it at the start but it didn’t take long for her to return it with vigor, pulling his mouth against hers. He knew he was being demanding as he covered her mouth with his, but he couldn’t help it. At least he could count on Cara to give back as good as she got. She pushed back fiercely, leaning into him. He sighed into the kiss as he felt her breasts press against his chest through the thin fabric of their shirts—not their own shirts at all, but rather whatever their mysterious rescuers had provided. Din wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her closer, forgetting his injury. The pain sent stars shooting up behind his eyelids and he broke away from the kiss in a gasp.

“Shit! Din, I’m sorry!” Cara cried, clasping a hand over her mouth.

“Not… your fault,” he replied through gritted teeth as he cradled his arm to his chest.

She reached out to take it gently, inspecting his bandage with disdain. “This wrapping needs to be changed. You’re practically bleeding through it!”

“It’s fine,” Din argued. He considered trying to pull his arm away from her but the threat of that pain made him pause. “I’m sure whoever took care of us will come to change it soon.”

She did not look convinced. “Maybe I should go find someone…”  
  
“No!” he cut in. His good hand gripped her upper arm tighter than he really intended. He was certain that this wasn’t a dream, now, but he still didn’t want to let her out of his sight. “No, please, don’t go. It feels better already.”  
  
“There’s that terrible lying again,” she said, clearly displeased but humoring him. She looked down at his arm again. “I thought beskar was impervious to nearly everything.”

Din nodded. “Nearly. It’s certainly invulnerable to most lightsaber strikes, but then again the Darksaber isn’t your average lightsaber.”

“The what?”

“The Darksaber. It’s what you used to kill Gideon.”

She looked at him as if he’d grown two heads, or maybe a third arm based on the direction of her gaze. “You _know_ about that thing?”

“Of course I do. It’s an ancient weapon, made by a Mandalorian who became a Jedi,” Din explained.

This description seemed to do nothing to allay her confusion. “Wait a minute, I thought the Mandalorians and Jedi were enemies? At least, outside of this planet I guess.” Her brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of all of this. He didn’t blame her, there was little about the last few days that made much sense to him either.

“It was not always so. From the sound of it, I’d wager it’s not so now, if only because there seems to be only one Jedi left, and not much of the Mandalorians either.”

“So how did Gideon get it? This Dark…saber?”

Din shook his head slowly. He’d been asking himself the same question, and always came up with the same terrible answer. “He must have taken it in the Purge. Killed it’s owner. Do you still have it?”

“No, I woke up here all bandaged up, same as you. I don’t know how we got here.”

“We have to find it!” he exclaimed, becoming agitated. Cara was looking at him inquiringly, but he was having a hard time putting it’s importance into words. “I’d say a symbol of leadership of our people, but it’s more than that. It’s sacred to us.”

Cara put a comforting hand on his uninjured forearm and gave it a squeeze. “We’ll find it. After you heal.”

He was about to open his mouth to argue when another voice spoke up from the direction of the door. “You don’t have to look far. We are holding it for you.”

Din looked up in panic, thinking that the speaker was looking into the room. He’d been ready to show his face to Cara, but a stranger was another matter. He’d been stupid, being so cavalier about his helmet in an unfamiliar place, but his concern for Cara had overwhelmed all reason. The door frame was empty, though, and whoever it was wasn’t visible.

“I thought it likely that you might not be wearing your helmet with your wife,” the man explained from the hall, seemingly reading his thoughts. “Let me know when I can enter.”

Din fumbled for his helmet, discarded on the bed, and replaced it, trying not to think about how the man had called Cara his _wife_. She was looking at him in the eyes now, as she always seemed to be able to do despite his helmet, her gaze unreadable.

“We’re not…” he started, then stopped himself for some reason he couldn’t explain. “You can come in.”

To Din’s utter surprise, the bartender from the cantina strode around the corner, a wide smile on his face. “So good to see you two awake,” he said cheerfully. “It was a bit of a nail biter, I can tell you. When we removed your armor we thought you’d be a gonner with that wound on your arm, but you didn’t lose that much blood.”

“How did you know I couldn’t be seen without my helmet?” Din asked. To be perfectly honest he was more interested in these people and their unexpected depths than his own injuries. “Nat told us that the other Mandalorian here removed hers.”

“One just doesn’t assume these things,” the bartender replied matter-of-factly as he strode over to the bed. Gently, he took Din’s injured arm and tsked. “This desperately needs a changing. I’ll send for fresh wrappings.” He quickly walked back to the door and called down the hallway to someone else.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” Din said when he’d turned back into the room. “We don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Lars, and you don’t have to thank us. This was the most fun we’ve had in years,” Lars answered, beaming. This time he bent to inspect Cara’s bandages, but she was a less pliant patient than Din.

“I’m fine,” she protested as he fussed about the bandage on her thigh, “it was just a couple of blaster bolts.”

“Wait, where’s the other one?” Din asked, confused. The only other bandages were on her knuckles and one stuck on one side of her forehead. None of them looked like the product of a blaster.

Gingerly, Cara lifted the hem of her shirt as much to show Din as to allow Lars to check the bandage wrapped around her waist. She tried to twist to see her back, but hissed in pain. As she rotated slightly Din could see a bit of blood soaking through just to the right of her spine.

Din gaped at her. “Cara, why didn’t you say anything? That’s where I…”

“Your touch could never hurt me,” she blurted out. Din watched as her eyes went as wide as saucers and she turned a deep red when she realized what she’d just said.

Lars, to his credit, pretended he hadn’t heard this exchange. “I’ll have Rosalie change this one too, when she gets here.” He stood and regarded them in an exceptionally fatherly way. “You two are welcome to stay as long as you want. And I recommend you do so. Those wounds are nothing to sniff at.”

“Do you have any way to contact the wolves?” Din asked. He wouldn’t be able to relax until he knew the kid was also safe. The wolves had said they’d protect him, and it didn’t seem like anyone would be able to get through them, but still…

“If you’re concerned about your little one, they dropped him off here after they cleaned up the rest of those Imps. He’s outside playing with the other kids now, but I can get him if you want…?”

Din shook his head. “No, let him play. He needs it.”

“Good,” Lars replied, nodding. “And you need the rest. I’ll bring him by later when he’s good an’ worn out.” He turned and began heading toward the door.

“Lars?” Din said. The bartender paused and turned back to them, his eyebrows raised. “Thank you, again.”

“Don’t mention it,” Lars said with a chuckle. “And, uh, try to be gentle with each other, ok? I’ll make sure Rosalie knocks before she comes in.” Then, with a wink, he was gone.

* * *

Downtime was not something that Cara did well. Even on Sorgan, she’d filled her days with training or fighting, neither of which were an option in her current state. She got bored, but at least this time she had someone to share the boredom with. She’d discarded the crutch as soon as she could and only walked with a slight limp now, but it was enough to make running after the kid a pain. Din, on the other hand, could run after him just fine, but catching him was another matter. His grip in his left hand was still very weak, which clearly frustrated the hell out of him. Half of the time he would walk out of their joint physical therapy sessions, grumbling—and Cara thought _she_ hated being injured. She could sense there was something about his hand, and the severity of the injury, that was making it much worse than a normal recovery.

On the whole, life was slow in the small community of ex-rebels on Lothal. As the weeks stretched on the days grew hotter, and their training sessions were pushed to the early mornings and late afternoons. In the middle of the day they passed their time sitting in the shade of the porch of the small house that they were renting with cold drinks in hand, watching the kids play nearby. In a way it reminded Cara of Sorgan, though being on the edge of the city there were a lot more people around. It was pleasant enough, but she could feel the pull of open hyperspace, just like she had in the days before Din Djarin showed up in her backyard.

The day was hot and sunny, as they all were. Cara sipped her drink, listening to the ice clink softly in the glass. Din sat beside her, his armor abandoned in favor of light pants and shirt woven out of a yarn spun from one of the native grasses. He was watching intently as the kid played with some of the native children. She wondered what he was thinking.

“Credit for your thoughts,” she prompted, rolling her glass slowly.

He sat back in his seat, his gaze never leaving the kids. “Have you ever thought about settling down someplace quiet?” he asked. The hesitation was obvious in his voice, as if he feared what her answer might be.

“Is this the injury talking?”

Din looked down at his left hand, which lay slightly curled as it rested on the arm of the chair. He clenched it slowly into a fist, then let relax. “Well, kinda. We’re not as young as we used to be.”

“Speak for yourself,” she shot back with a grin and an elbow to his ribs.

“It’s more than that,” he sighed. “I think about the kid, and always dragging him into dangerous situations…”

There were a lot of unspoken implications in that statement, chief among them the assumption that the kid would be staying with them. “You mean if we don’t find his people,” she replied in spite of herself.

“Yeah, of course,” Din muttered, scratching the back of his neck. His disdain for the idea was obvious, and Cara couldn’t say she didn’t feel the same way. Why should some people that the kid doesn’t even know have some claim over them? The possessiveness she felt was messing with her head; motherhood had always been an undesirable outcome for her. “So, do you?” he asked, disrupting her train of thought. “Think about settling down?”

Cara leaned back and stretched her legs out, feeling the pull of the healing wound in her thigh. She did have to admit that her injuries were beginning to catch up with her. “It’s not the years, it’s the mileage,” she muttered with a chuckle. “I was in the process of doing so when you showed up on Sorgan.”

“Sorry about that,” he said, sounding contrite.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t apologize for being the best thing that ever happened to me,” she replied vehemently.

Din shook his head slightly, as if he didn’t believe her. “The number of times you’ve been nearly killed…”

“Have all been worth it.” Her tone was one that brooked no argument, and he gave none this time. “Besides,” she added, “I would've gotten bored.”

“So you’re saying you’ll get bored again.”

Cara shrugged. “Not necessarily. Depends on the company.” In reality, she had no idea if this was true. Maybe she would get bored, but then again, who’s to say he wouldn’t? She said as much, and he shrugged back.

“You’re right. This is the longest I’ve spent in one place in a very long time. But I think I’d like to try it out. Not right now, but… down the road. You?”

She smirked at him, tilting her head slightly. “Is that some kind of proposal?”

“Did you want it to be?”

Cara felt her cheeks get hot. She looked back toward where the kid was playing, hoping Din wouldn’t notice. She hadn’t actually expected him to reply with _that_. Her mouth opened but she had no idea what to say in response..  
  
“You don’t have to answer that,” he said, sensing her hesitation.

The redness in her cheeks deepened, this time in shame. She’d never felt like this about anyone before. She loved him, more than anything. She’d give her life for him. And yet, it still wasn’t enough to silence the stupid voices inside her head that told her not to get too involved. As if it were even possible for her to get in deeper than she already was. He was ready to forsake his creed for her, and she couldn’t even give him this? The guilt she felt at this childish fear of marriage was more intense than she’d ever felt before.

As always, Din could read her perfectly, as if he could hear her thoughts. He reached over and placed his hand on her forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze. The gesture was enough to convince her that she at least owed him an explanation for her hesitation.

“It’s not that I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with you,” she said quickly, forcing herself to commit to the explanation. “I do, truly. But… well, my parents always made such a big deal out of marriage. How sacred and important it was. All I knew when I was a kid was that I was _never_ going to get married, and it became kind of a part of who I was, y’know? So even now…” She trailed off, uncertain of how to finish her thought.

“It doesn’t have to be, you know. A big deal,” he said when it was clear she wasn’t continuing. She looked at him curiously. “For Mandalorians, a marriage can be as simple as two people bound by love, living as one, who will always love and protect and support each other. No big ceremonies. It’s a very personal thing.”

Cara mulled this over for a few moments. “So, by Mandalorian standards, we’re already married?”

“Well, not really. What we have could be considered a marriage among my people. But we’re not married unless we say the words.”

“Huh,” she replied. She didn’t know what to do with this new information. She needed time to think. She would never have the marriage her Alderaanian parents had, but maybe she could have something of her own. “What are the words?”

Din stiffened slightly, and she wondered if she shouldn’t have asked. Maybe they couldn’t be said outside the ceremony, or maybe a person couldn’t say them alone. But before she could take her question back, he answered. “They translate to something like ‘we are one when together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors.’” He paused for a moment, then added, “Look, Cara, I never intended this to be a conversation about marriage.”

“No, that was all my fault,” she replied with a smirk.

“I’m serious,” he said, but she could tell he was smiling under his helmet. “I don’t want you to feel pressured about that, or about settling down. If I lived the rest of my life with you as we are now, I’d die blissfully happy. I hope you know that.”  
  
“I do. And maybe we can revisit these conversations down the line, ok?” She looked imploringly at him. It was what she could give at that moment, and she couldn’t imagine what she’d do if it wasn’t enough.

In response, he squeezed her arm again and inclined his head slightly. “Absolutely ok. I love you, Cara Dune.”

Cara felt a warmth grow inside her at those words, spreading from her chest down to the tips of her fingers and toes. She would never get used to it, this feeling. “And I love you, Din Djarin. More than anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was at a wedding this weekend so I guess I had marriage on the brain. Hadn't planned on them having the conversation, but it evolved naturally as I wrote it.
> 
> Thank you once again so so much for all your amazing comments.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember back when I said I wasn't going to get into any more Mandalorian lore and stuff? Well that was a fucking lie. This story became much larger scale than just Din and Cara fall in love. I apologize for all the liberties I've taken with characters I've only read about; I hope I do them justice.

“Mandalore? You’re sure about this?” Cara asked as they packed up their few belongings in the small house.

Din nodded. “I don’t know if anything—or anyone—is left after the Purge, but I don’t know where else to go. The Darksaber needs to be returned to the Mandalorian leadership, whatever that may be now.”

“As long as the planet’s not full of Imps now,” Cara muttered, half to herself.

“I can’t believe that to be true.”

The remaining Mandalorians, scattered throughout the galaxy, were sanguine about what had happened on their homeworld, but on the whole they kept a secret hope that some part of them had persisted. Surely Mandalorians would not be so easily extinguished. The only thing he knew about Mandalore now was that Gideon had been there, but what had happened after the imperials had wrought their destruction and left? He didn’t know.

They packed in silence for a while, until Cara picked up a floppy woven hat and sighed. He knew what she was feeling without asking. They’d spent a month on Lothal and the small rebel community on the edge of the capital city had begun to feel like a home. But as much as they liked it here, they couldn’t keep drawing on their hosts’ seemingly endless hospitality, and in the end they didn’t feel totally safe here. Lothal was on the outer rim but hosted a surprising amount of interstellar traffic, and they had no idea whether the imperial interest in the kid was limited to Gideon or more widespread. If people could find them on Sorgan, they’d easily find them here. Still, it didn’t make leaving any easier. They had friends here now, as did the kid.

“We could come back, some day,” he offered, packing his own things. “Once we know more about the kid and whether the Imps are still after him.”

Cara stuffed the hat into a bag, even though the odds of her needing it on the Razor Crest seemed slim. The corner of her mouth ticked up into a half-smile. “Maybe some day,” she agreed.

A soft rap on the door frame made them both turn. Lars stood in the entryway, the perennial smile on his face. Din watched as he looked them up and down; they were wearing their armor again, looking out of place in the quiet community.

“Sure I can’t convince you to stay a bit longer?” Lars asked as he leaned on the door frame.

“We’ve already asked too much of your hospitality,” Din replied.

Lars shook his head. “Nonsense. You’re always welcome here.”

“I’m sure Adella would like her house back,” Cara put in as she folded up some of the kid’s clothing.

“I’m not sure Adella will even move back in,” Lars said with a chuckle. “She’s really come to value living with her kids and grandkids.”

Din closed up his bag and walked over to where Lars stood. “We can’t begin to thank you, for everything.”

“Then don’t. We only did what anyone would.”

Din laughed softly at that. “That’s not even close to being true. You’ve been beyond hospitable.”

“Well then save your thanks for the next time you’re here,” Lars suggested, grinning broadly. “Maybe you can bring me a bottle of whisky from whatever far-flung place you get off to. It can be hard to get stuff all the way out here.”

“We’ll do that,” Din agreed, sticking out his hand. Lars gave it a hearty shake, and he again felt a pang of regret at leaving.

Grabbing their bags, they walked out of the small, cozy house. They were leaving with more than they had arrived with, as Lars insisted that they take the clothes they’d been given during their stay. The kid was playing in the front, running after another kid, but stopped short when he saw his parents. This was the part Din hated most. Taking him away from the other kids, on the run again; it was no life for a kid. But he had little other option. As Din walked over to him, the kid held up his hands to be picked up so Din bent down to oblige him. The kid chirped softly, looking from Din to the kids on the ground.

“Wave bye to your friends,” Din told the kid softly. “It might be a while before we see them again.”  
  
The kid waved at the other children, who waved back at him. His ears drooped slightly, a clear sign that he knew what was happening. He didn’t struggle or fuss, though.

“Are you ready to go?” Din asked him.

The kid nodded slowly. It was moments like these when Din really felt the kid’s age come through. Still, it didn’t seem right that he should have to be so mature. Cara strode up beside them as they stood there and reached out to stroke one of the kids ears comfortingly.

“Ok,” Din said, mostly to himself, “onto the next adventure.”

* * *

From space, Mandalore looked just like it had when he visited all those years ago. He’d only been once, brought by his adoptive family around the time that he wore his oath to the creed. They’d added his name to the rolls and left again, barely talking to anyone; Din got the sense that adoptive parents didn’t approve of how some of their fellow Mandalorians lived. He’d been only a teenager then, young enough that he didn’t really understand the subtleties. Now his curiosity was sparked by what he’d learned about the Mandalorian had spent time on Lothal, though he didn’t know if he’d find any answers to the questions he had.

As they approached he hailed the frequency that had been programmed into his ship and never used, half expecting not to get anything back. For a few minutes it was silent, and Cara looked an him inquiringly from her seat next to him. He was about to hail them again when the comms crackled to life.

“Razor Crest, you are cleared to land. Head to 058937.” There was another brief silence, and then whoever was on the other side added, “Welcome home.”

The words stirred a feeling in Din that he didn’t quite understand. Mandalore had never been his home, but at the same time it was someplace that all Mandalorians had the right to call home. Something deep inside him wanted it to feel that way, even though he had no intention of staying.

The destruction wrought by the imperial Purge became more obvious as they descended further through the atmosphere and approached the surface of the planet. Stately, solid buildings lay reduced to rubble, and those that stood seemed mostly empty. It was a bleak landscape, and Din wondered just what they would find. What if there was no Mandalorian government here to return the saber to?

When they disembarked, the kid’s carrier floating between them, they found someone waiting for them. She was about Cara’s height, but a slighter build, clad entirely in Mandalorian armor. _Unusual_ Mandalorian armor. Each plate was brightly painted with a different but complementary pattern. Din had never heard of anyone decorating their armor like this, and knew it would have been frowned upon by the sombre members of his tribe. Even her posture seemed irreverant; she stood with a leg kicked out and hip cocked to the side, one arm rakishly planted on it. Her helmet was the one thing that looked traditional: clearly handed down, it sported the design of the Nite Owls above the visor. Din felt Cara look at him but he held the gaze of the other Mandalorian.

“You must be Din Djarin,” the Mandalorian said as they approached. When they stopped in front of her she reached up and pulled off her helmet revealing a youthful face topped with a shock of short, purple hair. “My name is Sabine Wren.”

The moment her helmet had come off Din had known who she had to be. What were the odds that the Mandalorian they had heard so much about back on Lothal would be the first one they would encounter here? Sabine appeared to be not much younger than him, but clearly raised in a very different clan. He couldn’t help but marvel at how different they seemed, and yet they both could call themselves Mandalorian. Sabine tucked her helmet under one arm and extended the other.

“We’ve heard a lot about you,” Din remarked, clasping her hand in his. “A pleasure to meet you.”  
  
Sabine cocked an eyebrow at them inquiringly. “Is that so?”

“We were just on Lothal,” he offered, not elaborating on the reasons.

“Spent some time with the ex-rebels out there,” Cara added.

Sabine turned her attention to Cara, smiling. “Friends of yours?”

“They weren’t, but they are now,” Cara answered. She stuck out her hand, and Sabine took it. “Cara Dune.”

“Enchanted,” Sabine returned, looking every bit of it. “If you don’t mind me saying, you are quite the unusual group of travelers. And I thought my crew was eclectic.”

Cara grinned at that, shooting a glance up at Din. “It’s a long story.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Sabine replied. She bent down to look more closely at the kid, a wide simle on her face. “And who’s this little one?”

“This is my foundling,” Din explained. “I rescued him from imperial forces, and have been tasked with returning him to his people.”

Sabine raised her hand and gave a small wave to the kid, who waved back. “Does he have a name?”

“We don’t know it,” Din said.

“We call him Nigel,” Cara added cheekily.

He rolled his eyes and knew Cara could tell. “No, we don’t.”

“Aww, I like Nigel,” Sabine replied, winking up at Cara. She straightened, looking back at Din. “So what brings you to Mandalore? I’m afraid I don’t think anyone here knows any more about this little guy than you do.”

“We’ve come to return an object of great importance,” he said. “The Darksaber.”

Sabine gaped at them, eyes wide. For a long time she didn’t say anything, apparently stunned into silence by this revelation. Finally she asked, “Gideon…?”

“Is dead,” Din confirmed. “He was killed on Lothal.”

“This is huge,” Sabine breathed, half to herself. “I’ll call the council to assembly at once,” she told them. “In the mean time, let me find you someplace to stay while you’re here.”

“Thank you,” he replied, and they followed as Sabine led them down the narrow road.

As they walked Din told her about the confrontation on Lothal and about Gideon’s hunt for the kid, with Cara jumping in to provide some additional commentary. The battle on Nevarro seemed like ages ago, now. When he’d finished, Sabine told them about the Purge on Mandalore and how Gideon had surprised them, laying bare a once-mighty people.

“It was only reason he was able to get the upper hand,” she explained sadly, shaking her head like she still didn’t believe it had actually happened. “He stole it, you know? The Darksaber. Bo-Katan was at her morning toilet when he showed up. He killed the guards silently—we still don’t know how—and snuck into her armory. She tried to go after him, but even in the hands of someone who doesn’t know how to use it the Darksaber is a formidable weapon. I think losing it broke her spirit more than her body.”

“She’s not…?” Din began, surprised by the implication.

“Dead?” Sabine finished, guessing his query. “No. She escaped with her life, but barely. She refuses to accept the title of Mand’alor since the Purge, though she sits on the council, such that it is. We pretend like we have some say over anything, but with all our people still so scattered, we are the lords over nothing but the ashes now. But with the Darksaber…” She cast a sidelong look at him. “It could change a lot.”

He nodded in understanding. “It is an honor to be able to return it.”

Sabine gave him an odd look, then, one that he couldn’t read. “I’m sure. The council will be convening shortly. I’ll give you some time to rest, and then come get you when they’re ready.”

“Thank you,” Din replied, looking to Cara and the kid. “Is there somewhere we could get something to eat for the kid?”

“Of course. What does he like?”  
  
“Anything and everything,” Cara answered with a smirk.

Sabine laughed. “I’ll send someone by with a variety.”

She led them into a sizeable building that had somehow survived the destruction. There were a few people moving about, but it was otherwise rather quiet. He got the sense that much of Mandalore was like this now. The suite that she showed them to was spare but clean and comfortable, with an ensuite bathroom and even a small kitchenette. After Sabine left them Din turned to Cara, who was watching him with a concerned expression on her face.

“You ready for this?” she asked.

He didn’t have to ask what she was talking about. “Yes,” he replied confidently. “Maybe.” He wanted to pretend that thinking about standing in front of a council of Mandalorian leaders didn’t make him anxious, but that was a lie. He couldn’t lie to her. “It’s a little disconcerting. Not something I ever thought I’d be doing.”

She walked over to him and put a hand on his upper arm, giving a little squeeze. “I’ll be there, by your side. You need me to take someone out, say the word.”

Din chuckled softly. She always did have a way of making things seem easier to bear. “I’ll keep that in mind. You think the kid will behave?”  
  
“We stuff him with enough food, he will,” she replied, considering the kid thoughtfully.

As if summoned by this conversation, there was a knock on the door. Cara opened it and accepted a large tray of food from an elderly Mandalorian on the other side. They spent the next hour feeding the kid and themselves while Din tried not to think about the upcoming council meeting. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something just felt like this wouldn’t be as easy as he thought it would be when he brought them here.

By the time Sabine showed up at their door again the kid was napping in his carrier and Din was ready to get this over with. They followed the other Mandalorian to an unassuming building and into a surprisingly large room. A long table lay on one side of the space and nine Mandalorians of every ilk sat behind it. Some wore helmets, some did not. It was by far the most varied group of his people that he’d ever seen.

Sabine walked over to the remaining empty chair and stood behind it, clearing her throat. “The Council of Mandalore has been called today to hear from one of our brothers.”

Everyone on the council looked expectantly at Din. He didn’t know what Sabine had told them about what he was here for, but based on their expressions—ranging from mildly intrigued to clearly put out that they’d been assembled—they had no idea what was coming.

“My name is Din Djarin. This is my partner, Cara Dune, and our foundling,” he said, speaking to the council. He knew that the introduction of Cara as his partner would raise eyebrows, not because she wasn’t Mandalorian, but because her beskar epaulet clearly marked her as a member of his clan. Under normal circumstances, that meant she would be his wife. Nothing about his clan was normal, though. “We’ve come to return the Darksaber to our people,” he continued, reaching into the pouch where it lay. He withdrew it and held the angular hilt out on flat palms.

When he presented the weapon a low rumble of muttering erupted over the council. Some of the members seemed to be giving him the same odd look Sabine had earlier. He glanced at Cara, who shrugged at him. What was happening? Was there some problem they were unaware of?

An older woman sitting near the center of the table cleared her throat, causing the others to fall into silence. She was thin and sallow-faced with chin-length straight red hair shot through with grey and held back from her face with a wide grey band. The armor she wore was blue and white, and the signet of the Nite Owls graced her left epaulet.

“You know the tradition of this weapon within our history?” she asked, looking at him through narrowed eyes.

“Yes,” he answered. He’d been told of the Darksaber as a child, and had heard its lore.

“Then you know that whoever wins it in combat earns the right to claim the title of Mand’alor?”

In fact, this was not something that Din knew. At least, not the specifics. He knew that it was a symbol of leadership, but for a long time it was merely passed down the generations. He shook his head slightly and looked at Cara, who was regarding him with her eyes wide. “In that case you’ll have to bow to her, because I wasn’t the one to take it and use it to slay him.”

The council erupted in murmurs again, intently discussing this information. Din couldn’t believe there was anything to discuss. Clearly neither he nor Cara would be ruling Mandalore.

“It was more of a joint effort,” Cara put in, causing the rumbling of voices to fade as they looked at her intently. “He disarmed Gideon in the first place.”

A helmeted council member spoke up from the far right of the table. “Are you Mandalorian?” he asked Cara, the disapproval in his voice obvious. Din felt his hackles raise at the question.

“No,” Cara answered, looking far less perturbed at this line of inquiry than Din.

“Yet you wear our beskar.”

“She is a member of my clan,” Din growled aggressively, pulling himself up to his full height. “That piece was made for her by the Armorer of the Nevarro covert, forged from beskar recovered from Imperial hands.”

The woman sitting in the center raised a hand to silence whatever the helmeted Mandalorian might have responded. “Don’t mind Kaz,” she told Din and Cara. “He’s still quite leery of outsiders, despite the fact that anyone can see that you both wear the same signet. Your clan is welcome here.”

“Thank you,” Din replied, relaxing slightly. He could sense the others in the chamber relaxing as well; it was common for members of different clans to come to blows over any slight, real or perceived.

“There is still the matter of the Darksaber, however,” she continued. “Do you intend to claim the title?”

“No,” Din said definitively. “I have responsibilities that I have not yet met, and besides I have no experience or desire to lead.”

The woman nodded sagely. “Some would say those are the best qualities a leader can have. But I understand.”

“What of the Darksaber, then?” another council member asked.

“Mandalore has been ruled without it before,” she replied. “So it may be again.”

Din blinked rapidly under his helmet, confused by this statement. “What?”

“Your clan won the Darksaber in combat, whether it was a joint effort or not. It is yours until you die, or until you choose to pass it down,” she explained.

“I’m here to pass it to _someone_ ,” he replied, unable to keep frustration from coloring his tone. “It belongs on Mandalore. Clearly everyone on this council defers to you. Can’t you take it?”

Her face took on a grim quality, set with regret and sorrow. “I failed to hold it once. I cannot accept it again,” Bo-Katan answered. “I do not believe you should make a choice like this lightly.”

“So, what are you saying? That I should _keep_ it?” Din asked incredulously.

“I’m saying that you should follow your heart. Do what you feel is right.”

Din looked around the chamber at the members of the council, but they all seemed to agree with this assessment. At least, those whose faces he could see. He was at a loss for words.

“I think we should adjourn for the day,” Sabine spoke up from the end of the table. “Clan Djarin must be tired from their journeys. Perhaps after a good night’s sleep the way forward will be clearer.”

“A wise suggestion,” Bo-Katan agreed. “We will reconvene tomorrow at 09:00.”

They were quiet as Sabine escorted them back to their room, lost in thought about all they had just learned. Despite Bo-Katan’s insinuation that perhaps he should keep the weapon, he had no intention of doing so. He didn’t need that kind of pressure in his life; he had enough already. He looked over at Cara, wondering what she thought of the situation.

“Try to get some rest tonight,” Sabine said as she dropped them off in front of their door.

“Here’s hoping the kid doesn’t keep us up. He slept most of the afternoon,” Cara replied, shaking her head as she ruffled the kid’s ears. “Thanks for all your help.”

“Don’t mention it. Do let me know if you need anything, I live just down the road.”

“Actually,” Din said before she could leave, “could I talk to you for a minute?” He glanced at Cara and could tell that she immediately understood that he wanted to talk to the other Mandalorian alone. She excused herself and went inside the suite, leaving them in the hall.

“Everything ok?” Sabine asked, looking at him curiously.

Din tipped his head slightly. “Yes and no. It’s just… is this truly only my decision? It seems like too much for one person, especially when dealing with such a sacred object.”

“You are the rightful owner of the Darksaber, and so it is in fact only your decision that matters. Believe me, I understand. I’ve been in your shoes before,” Sabine replied with gentle smile.

Din was confused at this statement. “What do you mean?”  
  
“The Darksaber was rightfully mine before I persuaded Bo-Katan to take it,” she answered simply, shrugging as if it were nothing.

He gaped at her from under his helmet. This woman continued to surprise him. “How…” he said, shaking his head, “how did you know she was the right one?”

“First off, she refused it the first time I tried,” she explained. “But it also just felt right, y’know? I could feel that the Force had brought me to the saber for a reason, so that I could pass it on to her. She’s a natural leader.”

“Can you help me convince her to take it again?”

Sabine shook her head, a thoughtful look on her face. “I don’t think anyone could convince her of that. It was hard enough getting her to sit on the council.”

Din sighed in frustration. He’d not expected to have this much trouble with returning the weapon. “What about you? It was yours once.”

To his surprise, she laughed out loud at that. “Have you seen me?” she asked, smirking. “There’s no way I could unite the clans. No, the Darksaber is definitely not mine. Actually, I don’t think you should give it away.”

“Do you really think that the clans would rally around a foundling raised in one of the orthodox, once-exiled tribes?” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

She shrugged. “You’d be surprised. But this isn’t about ruling, not yet anyway. I think you were meant to have it. You say you’re looking for the Jedi, that they have something to do with your foundling. The Darksaber is a Jedi weapon, too. It’s too much to be a coincidence,” she said, shaking her head.

“What in creation would I do with it?”

“Keep it safe,” she suggested. “Maybe one day it will be time for Mandalorians to rise out of the shadows again and you will wield it and unite the clans.”

Din snorted at what he assumed was a joke. “Yeah, well, I don’t even know how to use it.”

“I could teach you,” she offered. She did not appear to be joking. He stared at her, unsure of how to respond. “Not now,” she added, clearly sensing his discomfort. “In the future sometime.”

He shook his head, trying to figure out what to think about this. “So you’re saying I should just hold on to this sacred Mandalorian weapon—and maybe eventually lead all Mandalorians, me, a nobody—based on a feeling? I’m sorry, but that seems nuts.”

“You’re not a nobody, Din. You took down the man who was responsible for carrying out the Purge. And I don’t want to hear any protesting about how you didn’t actually kill him,” she said quickly. “This _feeling_ , it means more than you think. I’m just saying, don’t be so quick to give it away.”

“Ok,” he sighed, putting a hand to the forehead of his helmet, “I’ll sleep on it. But I make no promises.”

Sabine chuckled softly. “Fair enough. Do try to actually get some sleep, though. Do you have everything you need here?”

“I think so,” he said with a nod. She began turning away but his curiosity got the better of him. “Can I ask you something? Uh, personal?”  
  
She turned back toward him and ran a hand through her hair, and expression somewhere between amusement and trepiditon on her face. “Shoot.”

“You said you couldn’t unite the clans. I assume you were referring to your… unorthodox appearance. Is everyone in your clan… like you?”

“No way,” she laughed. “They’re all far more conservative.”

“But they’re… ok with it? They didn’t disown you for not following their customs?”  
  
Sabine tilted her head slightly and her brow creased. “No, man. Disowning a member of your family because they choose a different path than you is, like, the antithesis of what being a Mandalorian means.”

“I don’t know,” he replied, sighing heavily. “If you swear your oath to the Way it seems like there’s no wiggle room. My adoptive father told me that if I take this helmet off in front of another living being, I can never put it back on again.”

“Anyone?” she asked, the surprise obvious on her face.

Din nodded. “Anyone.”

“That’s the strictest interpretation of the Way I’ve ever heard of. Most of the clans I know that adhere to the Way closely at least make allowances for family.”

“Not mine,” he replied, unable to keep the obvious regret out of his voice.

Sabine looked at him for a moment as if she was trying to figure out how to say something. “But, you have your own clan now, right? Brand new.”

“Yes,” Din confirmed, not sure what she was getting at.

“I haven’t always had the best relationship with my mother. But one thing she always told me was that I have to make my own Way. She certainly wasn’t thrilled with what I did to my armor the first time I came home with it like this, but she accepted it.”

“I don’t really understand what this has to do with me,” he replied, shaking his head.

Sabine smiled at him gently. “I understand that you were raised in the most orthodox interpretation of the Way. What I’m telling you is that you don’t have to keep following it if it doesn’t feel right to you. The Way of Mandalore isn’t just one monolithic list of rules that are not to be broken. Your interpretation of it is very personal.”

“Maybe that’s true, but I don’t think the tribe would ever accept me back if they knew I strayed from the path. For a long time they were the only family I had. I can’t imagine losing that.”

“Yeah, well, maybe it’s none of their business what you do with your own clan,” she argued hotly. She stopped herself and took a deep breath. “Look, just consider it, ok? I think you owe it to yourself.”

Din stared at her for what felt like several long minutes. In reality it was probably only a few short moments. His mind was racing, full of things he had hardly dared to hope. What if she was right? Was the question that had been torturing him for months answerable? “Ok, yeah. I’ll think about it,” he said quietly. “Thank you.”

“Any time. Of course if you keep coming to me for advice you’ll be walking around in brightly painted armor for too long,” she replied, grinning broadly.

He laughed at that, savoring a warm feeling that buzzed around his body. Acceptance. He’d avoided coming to Mandalore for years, partly driven by the fear that he’d never fit in, but now that he was here it felt right like he never expected. He had a lot to be thinking about tonight—the saber, the Way—but somehow he knew he’d figure it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter was heavy on Din and not on Cara, and I promise there will be more stuff about them as a couple in the coming chapters. I just felt like Din needed to have some conversations with Mandalorians who were not of his tribe.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for all the comments you leave on my stories. They really make my day! :)


	14. Chapter 14

“What a day,” Cara said to the kid, blowing out the words in a sigh. “What do you make of all that? You think your dad should be the leader of the Mandalorians?”

The kid burbled happily as if pleased with this idea. Cara just shook her head, a half smile on her face. It was clear Din wanted nothing to do with a leadership position, and she couldn’t blame him. She’d never sought promotion, never wanted to be the one in charge. Too much responsibility.

“You’re all the responsibility we can handle right now,” she muttered. She picked him up and bounced him on her hip a few times and he cooed back at her.

She could see the weight of the day sitting heavily on Din’s shoulders when he entered the suite and shut the door behind him. He leaned back on it for a moment and took a deep breath, letting his helmet clunk softly against the wood. Cara walked over to him, still bouncing the kid on her hip, and slid her free hand along the side of his waist. He pushed off the door toward her and she pulled him close so that their bodies connected at the hip. The metal of his helmet was cool against her forehead when he leaned down against her, and she felt him inhale deeply.

“Hey,” she whispered. “You ok?”

“I am now,” he answered, wrapping his arms around her and the kid.

She kissed him lightly on the cheek of his helmet and pulled back slightly to smile at him, leaving their bodies pressed together. “Let’s get out of this armor, yeah?”

He nodded and let go of her, sending a rush of regret flooding through her at the loss of contact. As he walked across the room she followed, setting the kid down in his carrier again. Hopefully he’d sleep and her earlier words would not be prophetic. She grabbed a few more bits of food off the platter and steered the carrier to the adjoining room, closing the door partly behind her. Both them began unclasping armor and pulling it off, leaving it scattered about the room. Din’s left vambrace was still marked by a huge gouge, rendering the electronics inside useless, but he insisted on wearing it anyway. He pulled his helmet off and set it carefully on the small table; she trained her eyes downward to avoid his face instinctually.

“Did you get the answers you wanted?” she asked, kicking off her boots.

Din shrugged. “I suppose. She gave me even more to think about.”

“She’s quite something,” Cara said, not trying to keep the admiration out of her voice. Sabine was the kind of person she could have become good friends with in another life.

“She is,” Din agreed, a slight chuckle in his voice. “A rebel and a Mandalorian.”

Cara sauntered over to him wearing only her thin undershirt and panties—her usual sleeping attire. She could feel Din look her up and down appreciatively; after all these months together he still made her feel worshipped. She let her lips curve into a coy smile as she slid her arms around his waist again, pulling their bodies back into contact.   
  
“How about that,” she hummed, burying her face in his neck.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, but she could feel that he wasn’t relaxed. No doubt his thoughts of the Darksaber weighed heavily on his mind. She kissed him softly, caressing his neck and collarbone with her lips.

“Credit for your thoughts,” she murmured between kisses.

He sighed heavily. “I’ve known since I was a foundling that every clan had its own traditions. Sabine, this whole place… they’ve showed me that there are many intepretations of the creed other than the one I grew up with. They’re still Mandalorians.”

Cara paused and pulled back slightly, looking at his shoulder in confusion. This was decidedly not what she thought was weighing on his mind.

“I’m an adult, with my own clan now. I could choose a more… liberal intepretation,” he continued. “On one hand, the idea feels so right. On the other, I don’t know if I could face the tribe knowing that I was no longer following the orthodox way. Sabine said it’s none of their business. But I couldn’t lie to them.”

An idea came into Cara’s mind then, one that she wanted to push out immediately. But if he was talking like this… The conflict must have shown on her face, because he raised one hand to her cradle her cheek.

“What is it?” he asked.

She shook her head, not wanting to put voice to her thoughts. “I… no, it’s nothing.”

“Cara, you know you can say anything to me. You’re a part of this clan, too.”

She took a deep breath. “Promise me you won’t take this to mean more than it does,” she said. He tipped his head in confusion, but nodded anyway. “What if it’s not a lie? I mean, if someone from the tribe asked you if you had been following the Way, it’s not a lie to say that you have, right? Your interpretation of it. That is the Way.” She felt him breathe in deeply and tightened her arms around his waist. “This is _not_ me saying you should show your face to anyone, including me,” she added quickly.

He pulled her in to rest her head on his shoulder, returning her tight embrace. “How’d you get so wise?” he asked, his voice thick. She felt him kiss the top of her head lightly.

She gave a short, almost bitter laugh. “I told you not to read too much into that.”

He placed his hand under her chin and lifted her face toward his. Her eyelids fell naturally; she wasn’t about to make any assumptions based on their conversation. After a few moments his lips met hers. He kissed her tenderly and slowly, his thumb tracing small circles on her cheek. She started in surprise and almost pulled away when the salty wetness of tears hit her lips, but he held her face to his and only kissed her harder.

His hand slid down to her ass, squeezing tightly and pushing her hips against his. She felt him rapidly getting hard through the thin fabric of his pants. He was seemed to only be getting more frantic, and she didn’t quite know what was happening. The change from serious conversation to this was giving her whiplash. When he broke the kiss they were both breathing hard. His lips went trailing down her neck to her collarbone, sucking hard enough to leave bruise. His hand slid up under her shirt and found her breast, thumbing over the hardening nipple.

She moaned involuntarily, her chest heaving. “Din… are you ok…?” she gasped.

He paused momentarily, his hand still cupping her breast. “I need you,” he whispered into her ear.

She couldn’t say no to that, even if there was a small voice in the back of her head that said that no, he wasn’t entirely ok. But they could talk about that later. Cara kissed him again, returning his fervor, and slid her hand down the waistband of his pants. The deep, gutteral groan that she elicited from his throat reverberated through her head, dispelling any last remnants of restraint.

His hand on her ass moved to the front and pushed into her panties, slipping his fingers into her wetness. She gasped into the kiss as he found her most sensitive spot and brushed his fingers over it. He pushed her backward until her calves hit the bed and she sat down onto it. He pulled her panties off in one smooth movement as she yanked his pants down to his knees, where he kicked them off. She scooted backwards on the bed and he climbed on top of her, clearly one thing on his mind. Both of them had gotten so incredibly keyed up, neither were willing to waste any more time.

Spreading her legs, she grabbed him and guided him into her. He pushed forward, filling her completely and sending a wave of pleasure pulsing up through her abdomen. She grabbed his ass and held him half a second longer on the bottom each thrust, grinding against him. His fists wound into the sheet by her head, gripping so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

She could feel her climax rapidly approaching, bearing down on her like a tidal wave, threatening to take her breath away. As it crashed down around her she gasped desperately for air and felt her muscles clench around him in rhythmic pulses. A strangled cry caught in Din’s throat when he came, shuddering as he collapsed. He struggled to catch his breath as he lay on top of her, his body limp. She smiled and raised a hand to trace the edge of his jaw, then pulled him down into a gentle kiss.

After a few minutes he climbed off her and flopped onto his back, still breathing heavily. She snuggled close to him, cradling her head between his chest and shoulder as she watched his chest rise and fall. They lay there like that for a while, savoring the closeness.

“You sure you’re ok?” she asked quietly after a while. She was tracing a finger in abstract patterns over his smooth chest, and he reached up to take her hand in his.

“Yeah,” he replied. She could hear his heartbeat and his voice resonating in his chest, sending vibrations into her head.

“You know I’d be happy for the rest of my life even if nothing changed, right?”

She felt him kiss the top of her head and his arms tighten around her. “I know.”

“I want you to do whatever feels right to you,” she said, splaying her hand out over his heart.

He gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Everyone keeps telling me that, but I don’t know what _that_ is.”

“You will,” she replied confidently, “when the time comes.” She didn’t honestly know where this confidence was coming from; if it were her, she’d be paralyzed by indecision.But she knew he would make the right choice. Somehow, he always seemed to.

* * *

By the time Sabine knocked on their door in the morning they were up and generally moving, although mornings were never Cara’s favorite part of the day. She yawned dramatically as she grabbed the kid from where he sat on the bed and plopped him into the carrier. He immediately tried to climb back out again; he was fussing like a little demon that morning. Din shuffled over to the door, still pulling his vambraces and gloves on. When he opened it Sabine smiled brightly. She carried a brown paper back in one hand and her helmet in the other.

“I brought breakfast,” she said cheerfully, giving the bag a little shake. The enticing aroma of baked goods wafted through the room, making the child squeal and Cara’s stomach rumble.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Cara replied, grinning broadly.

Sabine handed off the bag to her and Cara opened it eagerly, grabbing a couple of warm pastries from it. She handed one to the kid and dove into the other herself. She’d never had one like it before: a flaky exterior with a tart and sweet fruit filling.   
  
“What’s in this?” she asked, her mouth still partly full.

“It’s a fruit that grows in the valleys here,” Sabine answered.

Cara took another large bite. “Well this sucker is delicious.”

“I’ll tell my cousin you like them,” the Mandalorian replied, grinning. “She has a bakery down the road.”

She was made to surrender the remaining pastries by Din, who grabbed the bag from her and distributed another pastry to the kid. “Pardon me for a moment,” he told Sabine as he took the last one into the next room, pulling the door half closed behind him.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how do you usually work this?” Sabine asked quietly, clearly curious about their arrangement.

Cara shrugged. “He keeps the helmet off most of the time when we’re alone. I just don’t look at his face. The kid’s surprisingly good at it too.”

“Wow,” Sabine replied. “I’m impressed. That takes a lot of discipline. And you’re ok with never seeing his face?”

“Of course,” Cara answered. “I love him for who he is. I would never ask him to change for me.”

Sabine considered this for a moment, then smiled and shook her head ever so slightly. “You’re some woman, Cara Dune. He’s lucky to have you.”

“I’m lucky to have him,” Cara retorted.

“Who’s lucky to have who now?” Din asked as he walked back into the room, looking from Cara to Sabine.

Cara twisted her mouth into a defensive smirk. “Sabine was just saying that you are lucky to have me around. Of course she hasn’t spent much time around me, so…”

Din’s back straightened almost imperceptibly and she knew he was giving her a _look_. “Sabine is completely right,” he replied, his tone brooking no argument.

Cara’s mouth opened but she couldn’t find any words. Despite everything they’d been through, something in her was still completely sure that she wasn’t worthy of his love. So when he made statements like this, it never failed to tie her insides in knots.

Sabine seemed to sense her loss of composure and mercifully stepped in to change the subject. “You ready for today?” she asked Din.

“I guess,” he responded, shrugging and shaking his head.

Cara wasn’t sure that he’d slept at all the previous night. A few times she’d awoken to find him lying quietly in the bed, the depth of his breathing giving away his conciousness. Once the kid had whined in the other room and he’d been up before she had even become fully aware of what was happening. It was clear the Darksaber was weighing heavily on him, and she didn’t know how to help other than to just be there.

“Well, let’s get it over with,” Sabine suggested. “We can go out for drinks afterward.”

“It’s 8:30 in the morning,” Din replied incredulously.

“Don’t worry, I know a bar that’s open,” the other Mandalorian replied with a broad grin, purposefully misunderstanding Din’s objection.

“She’s my kinda girl,” Cara put in

Din sighed exhasperatedly, eliciting a hearty laugh from Cara. He shook his head at her, but the joke had it’s intended effect: she could see some of the tension leave his posture, if even for a moment.

It was a short-lived victory, though. He barely said a word on their short walk to the council’s chambers. The saber’s handle was clipped to his belt and his hand rested on it, tapping it idly as he walked. He’d been completely mum about it all night, and she didn’t feel like it was her place to pry.

The council was waiting for them when they entered the large room. Even those that didn’t wear helmets may as well have, for all their faces showed. Cara couldn’t lie: it was intimidating, even if she’d pretended like it wasn’t the previous day. She felt like an intruder here, like she didn’t belong despite the piece of beskar armor that argued she did. When the council had talked yesterday about how Din, as owner of the Darksaber, could claim leadership of Mandalore… well, she had to admit, she could see it. He was a natural leader, even if he would deny it. The idea terrified her on a whole other level, though. If Din were to become Mand’alor, what would that mean for her? For _them_? She couldn’t bear considering it. Besides, there was no way that he would accept such a title, so it wasn’t worth worrying about.

Sabine took her place behind her chair and cleared her throat. “The Council of Mandalore has been called today to hear the fate of the Darksaber. The Council has agreed that we are bound by the decision of its rightful owner, Din Djarin.” She sat, then, and everyone stared at Din for a long moment.

Din took a deep breath. “I have decided,” he said, then hesitated. Cara felt his eyes flick down to her beneath his helmet, only for a second. “I have decided,” he continued, more loudly, “that the Darksaber shall remain the the possession of Clan Djarin.”

Cara gasped, unable to stop herself, but the sound was drowned out by the low murmur of the council. Their conversations quickly halted, however, when Bo-Katan raised her hand in a signal of silence.

“At least, for the time being,” Din continued, sounding suddenly uncertain. He swallowed, and when he spoke again his voice was more solid. “I was told that I have to do what I feel is right. At first, I didn’t really understand how I could know. But then I realized that I trust my feelings every day to keep my family safe. I trust my feelings to know when something isn’t right, or when it is. Those feelings, against all logic, tell me that best place for the Darksaber is… with us.”

“I believe you have made a wise decision,” Bo-Katan answered, “and not just because I don’t want it back. I know you did not make this choice lightly, and that you understand the great responsibility you take in keeping it for our people. I wish you success on your mission, and hope that you will return to us again. Know that Mandalore is your home, even if you did not grow up here.”

“Thank you,” Din replied.

Cara could hear the overwhelmed note in his voice, but it was so carefully controlled that she doubted anyone else could. He looked down at Cara and the kid, and she wondered what was going through his head right then. For such an imposing figure, she got the sense that he was remarkably fragile in this moment.

“Oh, and Din?” Bo-Katan said, bringing their attention back to her. “May the Force be with you.”

* * *

The kid kept trying to struggle out of his carrier and take off as they walked back to their apartment, one time going so far as to launch himself completley from his enclosure. Cara just managed to catch him before he hit the ground, and he had squealed in laughter.

“You are being a terror,” told him as the arrived at the apartment. He looked entirely too pleased with himself.

“Let me have him,” Din offered, holding out his arms for the kid. “I can take him for a walk while you get some rest.”

Cara cocked an eyebrow as she handed the kid over. “You’re the one who didn’t sleep last night.”

Din shrugged. “I could use some time to decompress.”

“Suit yourself,” Cara responded.

“Are the registers… did they survive?” Din asked Sabine uncertainly as he bounced the kid lightly on his hip.

Sabine nodded. “Yeah. The building is still standing. I could take you if you want?”

“Thank you, but I can find it. I’d like to spend some time with him alone.” He looked quickly at Cara, saying, “Not that I don’t want you along.”

Cara laughed, shaking her head. “It’s fine, go have your father-son moment.”

“I’ll be back in an hour or so,” he said. He turned back to Sabine. “Thank you again for all your help.”

“Don’t mention it, it was my pleasure. Do let me know if you need anything. I should let you get that rest,” she said to Cara, inclining her head slightly.

“Aww, keep me company?” Cara replied, a sparkle in her eye. “I’d like to pick your brain about something. I think I have a flask of Abrax somewhere?”

Cara shot a mischevious grin at Din, and she could see the slight shift in his posture that said he was suspicious, but he didn’t say anything.

“Is she always this hard to resist?” Sabine asked Din, chuckling softly.

“Always,” he confirmed.

Smiling, Cara waved to Din and the kid. “Have fun, you two.”

“Try not to get into too much trouble,” he replied before he turned to head out the door.

When they had gone, Cara turned back to rummage in her pack for her flask. She’d filled it on Lothal full of the sweet brandy—not what she usually drank, but she found it strangely compelling. Her hand closed on the hard metal container and she pulled it out, brandishing it as she turned back to Sabine, who was regarding her curiously. Cara twisted off the cap and took a long pull, feeling the sweetness on her tongue and the warmth traveling down her throat. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she handed the flask off to the Mandalorian.

“So what did you want to talk about?” Sabine asked after she took her own pull of the liquor, handing the flask back to Cara.

“Ah, well…” Cara replied, suddenly unsure. Was this a good idea? Probably not. She took another long swig, trying to drown the voices in her head. “Do you think I could learn the Mandalorian marriage vows, in Mando’a? I mean, would it be ok that an outsider learned them?”

Sabine stared at her for a moment with an expression that was supremely difficult to read. Cara wondered if she’d made a mistake, if she’d somehow offended and Sabine didn’t know how to tell her to fuck off. Her brow creased. “I don’t understand,” Sabine said.

“Never mind, stupid question,” Cara mumbled quickly, looking at the floor. Why had she even thought it would be possible? Yes, Din loved her, and yes, he seemed to think they could be married, but what if he was wrong? She wanted to crawl into the bottle and not emerge again until they’d left this planet.

“No,” Sabine said gently, interrupting the downward spiral of Cara’s thoughts. Cara looked up at the Mandalorian sharply to see that a soft look graced her face. “I don’t understand because you’re _not_ an outsider, Cara. You are a member of Clan Djarin. You wear this with honor,” she said, her finger tracing the edge of Cara’s epaulet. “Maybe you weren’t born into a Mandalorian family, and maybe you didn’t swear an oath, but you are one of us all the same.”

Cara stared at the woman in front of her, slack jawed, words eluding her. Sabine’s hand dropped to the flask that Cara still held and extracted it from her hand, smiling gently as she put it to her lips for another swig.

“So yes, you could learn the words, if you wanted to.”

This was, of course, the answer that she had wanted in the first place, but now that it had been given it was terrifying. What was she doing? She told herself that she was just learning the words, just in case. She could be prepared, that was all.

“Could… could you teach them to me?” Cara asked, quiet enough that Sabine probably wouldn’t have heard her had she not been standing so close.

Sabine grinned at her. “Din doesn’t know about this, does he?”

“Does that matter?” Cara asked, her eyes going wide. Had she just stepped in it again? She felt like a bantha in a glass factory.

“No, Cara, it’s fine. That was just my own personal amusement.”

Cara huffed out a laugh and gave Sabine’s shoulder a playful punch. The Mandalorian grabbed her pauldron dramatically, as if injured.

“Remind me never to get in a fight with you,” she said, then took another swig of the liquor.

“You can ask Din how that worked out for him.”

Sabine cocked an eyebrow at her and grinned. “Pretty well, it seems. Maybe I _do_ want to fight…”

“Sorry, ‘fraid I’m taken these days.”

“Well, damn. It was worth a shot.”

They both collapsed into laugher at that, bending over at the waist and breathing hard. Cara took the opportunity to nab the flask from Sabine again; it was disappointingly low.

“I should probably try to learn this thing before I can’t remember it anymore,” Cara suggested, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

Sabine nodded in agreement. “You got a piece of paper? I can write it down for you, in Basic letters.

“Paper…?” Cara replied, as if it was a foreign word to her. She didn’t know the last time she’d seen any.

Without answering, Sabine walked into the next room where a desk that Cara had barely noticed sat. The Mandalorian opened a drawer and fished out a small scrap of paper and a pen, then returned.

“This apartment used to belong to a writer,” she said by way of explanation. “C’mon.”

Sabine led Cara over to the small dining table and leaned over it with pen to paper. She wrote a series of words as Cara looked over her shoulder. _Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde_.

“I’ll show you how to pronounce it. Repeat after me,” the Mandalorian prompted. “Mhi solus tome,”

“Mhi solus tome,” Cara repeated.

“Mhi solus dar’tome.”

“Mhi solus dar’tone.”

“No,” Sabine corrected, “dar’to _me_.”

“Dar’to _me_ ,” Cara said, nodding seriously.

“Mhi me’dinui an.”

“Mhi me’dinui an.”

“Mhi ba’juri verde,” Sabine finished.

“Mhi ba’juri verde.”

Sabine grinned at her. “Very good! You’re a natural. Do you know what it means?”  
  
Cara nodded, staring at the piece of paper. “Din told me. Thank you.” She paused a moment, then smirked at Sabine. “So does this mean we’re married now or something?”  
  
“I wish,” Sabine laughed. “I said it before and I’ll say it again: Din is a lucky man, and I hope he realizes how lucky he is.”

It was one of those things that Cara didn’t know how to reply to. Instead she reached down and picked up the scrap of paper, folding it once before she tucked it into a small pocket. “I really appreciate this,” she told the Mandalorian. “Everything you’ve done for us. I don’t know how to properly thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Just promise me you’ll keep in touch, yeah? I get offworld sometimes, it would be nice to meet up with you guys again.”

“Absolutely. I look forward to it already,” Cara answered, grinning broadly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might be having way too much fun with Sabine, lol. She's become an outside agent that can push these two idiots toward where they need to go.
> 
> As always, your comments make me so happy and I love hearing what you think of the story. It's become a bit of a monster but hearing that you are digging it is incredible!


	15. Chapter 15

The building was standing, as Sabine had said, but certainly not untouched. Several of the elegant columns had crumbled, leaving their battered compatriots to bear the load of the heavy ceiling. He wondered at the fact that they hadn’t repaired it, but no doubt they lacked the labor to do so. So few of them remained on Mandalore. Could some of the scattered ones be tempted to return? It was hard to know.

The silence was oppressive, swallowing the sound of his footfalls as he climbed the steps of the portico. It was as if the structure refused to allow anyone to disturb the peace of its decay. Even the kid seemed to be in awe of the ancient, crumbling building; he’d ceased fussing and now looked around with wide eyes.

As he approached the registers he briefly wondered what he was doing here. The kid probably wouldn’t even understand or remember this. He would never be a Mandalorian, the Armorer had said as much. In the end, it would probably mean nothing to the kid. As if to confirm this, the kid looked up at Din with a confused expression on his face. But they were there now, so he might as well do what he came to.

The registers had always been an anachronous mix of old and new, and that hadn’t changed. A discreet interface on a simple podium allowed him to call up the volume that he knew contained his name. The soft whirr of machinery indicated that the system was still operational, and within a few minutes an invisible door opened to release a leather-bound book. The smell of the old leather and dusty pages released a flood of memories: of his adoptive father standing over him, of signing his name with a shaky hand, of the others of his clan goofing off while they awaited their turn. He could almost hear their voices ringing through the vast hall.

The kid made a soft sound and Din realized he’d been standing there, lost in his memories. With his free hand he reached down and opened the book, flipping pages until he found the page he’d signed all those years ago. There it was: _Din Djarin, foundling of House Vizsla_ , written in a handwriting he barely recognized. He put a finger up next to his name.

“Here’s your dad’s name,” he told the kid softly. “I signed it when I made my oath and became a Mandalorian.”

The kid strained in his arm, reaching toward the book, and against his better judgement Din leaned down to let the kid put his hands on it. The kid closed his eyes, both hands planted on the book, a look of concentration on his face. It was almost as if he was pulling some kind of information out of it, but that was impossible. Whatever he was doing, he finished and sat back in Din’s arms again and gave him a wide grin that exposed his little bottom teeth.

“What do you think? You want to write your name in the book one day?”

The absurdity of that statement struck Din immediately. The kid didn’t even have a name, not that he knew anyway. Maybe it was time… but he pushed the idea out of his head as soon as it occured to him. He was already too attached, and giving him a name would only make it worse.

With a sigh, Din closed the book and tapped the control panel to return it to the safety of its housing. Maybe this had been a mistake after all. The emotions it had dredged up were threatening to overwhelm him. Even the large, airy space felt too claustrophobic in this moment; he needed the open air. When he emerged from between the crumbling columns he sucked in a deep breath, resisting the urge to remove his helmet for more air. After a few minutes his head cleared and he felt his usual measured calm returning. He looked down at the kid, who was looking up at him with something between interest and concern.

“Don’t worry about me,” he chuckled softly. “Just freaking out over nothing.”

The kid cooed back at him. Din sighed again and hooked his thumb through his belt, looking out at the surrounding landscape. His fingers brushed the hilt of the Darksaber, still clasped on his belt, and he looked down at it. Without really thinking he unclipped it and spun it around once in his hand, feeling the weight of it. The kid reached out toward it, straining in his grasp.

“Oh no you don’t,” Din told him with a smirk. “You’re too young for this. I’ll probably be an old man by the time you’re ready for it,” he added quietly, feeling the emotions stirring in him again.

He should clip it back safely to his belt and return to the apartment. He should definitely _not_ turn it on here. Nevertheless, his thumb flicked over the switch. The long, black blade came sliding out, emitting a low hum that seemed to vibrate down his arm and through his body. He hadn’t seen it on since that night, when Gideon had almost killed him. It looked different in the daylight, with the sun scattering some of the glow. He swung it hesitantly—once, twice—and the kid squealed in delight.

He gave a soft chuckle, looking at the kid. “You like that, huh?”

“That is not rightly yours,” a deep voice interrupted from down the street.

Din looked up sharply to see a large, helmeted Mandalorian standing in the middle of the road. The intruder’s body language was threatening even from a distance, and Din could tell that the other man would loom over him if allowed to approach. He couldn’t let that happen.

“I’m sorry?” Din replied. There was no mistaking what he had said or his attitude, but perhaps the situation could be diffused.

“You heard me. The Darksaber does not belong to you.”

Well, perhaps not. Suddenly Din remembered where he’d seen him before: he was the one who had questioned Cara’s belonging at the council meeting. Kaz, Bo-Katan had called him. Din should have known that he would be trouble. The intruder took a step forward and Din’s had tightened on the saber. He almost looked down at it in surprise; he’d forgotten he was still holding it. He could turn it off, but that didn’t seem prudent anymore.

“The rest of the council does not agree with you,” Din answered, willing himself not to take a step back. He wouldn’t have even considered it except for the fact that he was still holding the kid.

Kaz took another step toward him. “There are plenty who do. The Darksaber belongs on Mandalore.”

“Bo-Katan…” Din began.

“Is no longer Mand’alor. She does not speak for us all. You can still make the right decision,” the other Mandalorian said, apparently trying a slightly different tack. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Din felt his hackles rise at that statement. Who did this man think he was, coming here to threaten him when he was with his young foundling? It showed a profound lack of honor. And that wasn’t even taking into consideration Din’s own pride.

“I’d like to see you try,” Din spat back at him. He swung the Darksaber around in front of them as the intruder took a few more steps forward. Kaz put his hand on his blaster and Din felt every muscle in his body tense; he was coiled like a spring.

“Holdling that _thing_ won’t protect you,” Kaz growled.

“He’s not a _thing_ ,” Din shot back, his ire rising further. His arm tightened around the kid. “He’s my foundling.”

The sound that Kaz made had to be a laugh, but it was so cold and cruel it made Din’s skin crawl. “You should have put him down when you found him. It would have been the honorable thing to do.”

“The honor—the _honor_ —” Din sputtered. The white hot rage filling him made it difficult to form sentences. When he spoke again his voice was low and deadly. “You wouldn’t know _honorable_ if it hit you in the face.”

“What would you know about it?” Kaz replied flippantly. “You weren’t even born a Mandalorian.”

Din was practically trembling with fury, but the hand that held the saber was rock solid. This was dangerous, for him and the child. Kaz knew what he was doing: riling him up so that he’d be blinded by his own rage. He had to regain control. Abruptly he felt a wave of calm wash over him, seemingly from nowhere. As his mind cleared his senses heightened. It was almost as if he could hear the other man’s breaths, see his actions before he even moved. Din became aware of the kid’s hands on his arm and he glanced down to see that his big eyes were closed in concentration. He was doing this…?

Kaz made an infinitesimally small move and it brought Din’s attention back to him. Din took two breaths, focusing his senses, and stepped forward. Kaz began to draw his blaster, and it almost seemed as if he was moving in slow motion. Din watched the blaster fire twice, the bolts streaking toward him. He swung the Darksaber to meet the first one and when he knocked it aside everything sped up again. Nevertheless he had no problem blocking the subsequent bolts as Kaz fired again and again, his arm seemingly moving on its own. He wasn’t thinking, he was just _feeling_.

Suddenly the other Mandalorian stopped, as if struck dumb by this display. Din felt the kid lift his hands, but the intense feeling of focus remained. Kaz still held his blaster in front of him and the kid reached his hands toward it. The gun went flying out of his hand and toward the kid, but Din cut it in half in the air before it reached him. The kid looked at him, ears drooping, as if Din had taken away a prized plaything. The Mandalorian across from them appeared stunned, but it took only a few moments before he was reaching for another weapon.

“Don’t,” Din warned coldly.

Kaz stepped back and put his hands up in surrender. “This… this is some kind of sorcery,” he sputtered. “The council will hear of this.”

“I will see to that myself,” Din promised.

Kaz continued to retreat slowly, moving toward a side street that he must have come down originally. Din turned to follow his progress, keeping the Darksaber between them. When the other Mandalorian had disappeared he walked cautiously to the entrance to the street and peered down it. Kaz was gone. Din took a deep breath, letting himself relax slightly. After another few moments, when nothing else happened, he flicked the switch on the saber and the blade retracted. In the absence of its hum, everything was eerily silent.

“Let’s get back to Cara,” Din whispered to the kid. “Hopefully we don’t meet anyone else with similar ideas.”

* * *

She was laughing with Sabine—trading stories of the rebellion—when he walked in carrying the kid. At first glance nothing appeared off, but Cara knew that he was on edge the minute he stepped into the room. To most others he looked perfectly normal, but she could see the tension in the way he held himself. Both he and the kid appeared uninjured, but he was rattled all the same.

“What happened?” she demanded, standing up abruptly.

Din looked from her to Sabine and back again. “Nothing,” he replied immediately, then sighed. “We’re fine, it’s just…” he trailed off, as if not certain what to say.

“I can leave,” Sabine offered as she stood.

“No,” he said before she could move too far, “you should stay.”

Sabine stopped, shooting a glance at Cara. So this was either not a big deal, or a very big deal. Cara folded her arms in front of her and waited for him to explain, trying to be patient. She had not expected any trouble here of all places, but that was stupid. Danger could, and would, show up at any turn when they were around.

“I had a… hostile encounter with one of the council members outside the records building. The one Bo-Katan called Kaz.”

Before Cara could respond Sabine groaned dramatically, bringing their attention to her. “That guy is such a jerk. He’s been trying to get me kicked off the council for years now. You should know that he doesn’t have many friends, on the council or off of it. I hope he didn’t give you too much trouble.”

The way that Din hesitated told Cara that he had. “He started going off on how the Darksaber belonged on Mandalore, and it just kind of devolved from there,” Din explained.

“Extremist, xenophobic asshole,” Sabine muttered under her breath, shaking her head as she looked at the ground. She looked back up at Din. “Please tell me he didn’t do anything stupid. I mean, more stupid. He did, didn’t he?”

Din made a sound that might have been a laugh. “How does pulling his blaster and shooting at us rank?”

“He did _what_?” Sabine gasped. “While you were holding your child?”

When Din nodded Cara let go a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “I’m gonna kill him,” she said with quiet determination, turning back to find her gun belt. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“Cara, stop,” Din said, grabbing her arm to arrest her progress. “I’m ok, the kid’s ok. I don’t think he’ll be messing with us again any time soon.”

Cara narrowed her eyes at him. The kid was sitting there looking totally unfazed, like nothing had happened. “Did he…?” she asked with a nod at the kid.

“Not exactly.”

Sabine was looking at them in confusion. She shook her head and turned to Din. “I’m sorry, but how are you not injured? If there’s one thing Kaz is not, it’s a bad shot. He excels at finding the weak points around the beskar.”

“I had the Darksaber out,” Din answered, as if this was a normal thing. “The kid… he put his hands on my arm, and suddenly everything was clearer. I blocked every bolt with the blade, and I don’t really know how it happened.”

Cara was dumbfounded and unable to keep the shock off her face. She didn’t understand, how was that possible? Sabine, on the other hand, just looked impressed.

“He’s a powerful Force user,” she said, staring at the kid. “You are right to try to find what remains of the Jedi, and right to keep the saber.”

“I don’t understand,” Din replied, speaking for them both.

Sabine just shook her head. “I’m not the right person to explain. Someday, you will find the Jedi, and they’ll be able to help you in a way I cannot.”

Cara didn’t know how she felt about that. On one hand, she did want answers, but meeting the Jedi could mean giving up the kid. She wasn’t prepared for that, and at this point she didn’t think she ever would be. She could tell Din was thinking the same thing in that moment. He nodded slowly, clutching the kid tighter to his chest.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Bo-Katan hears of this,” Sabine promised, misreading his trepidition. She put a hand to her chin, looking thoughtful, and when she continued it was almost to herself. “Maybe it will be enough… he probably won’t even deny it.”

“If you need me to make a report…” Din began, but Sabine waved him off.

“You told me, and I’m a council member. I promise there won’t even be a question of truth.”

“I’d keep on saying thank you but I feel like it’s gotten a bit repetitve,” he replied, chuckling softly.

Sabine smiled back at him. “You don’t need to, really. It’s all my pleasure.” Abruptly she looked concerned and laid a hand on Din’s arm. “Please don’t take this as a sign you aren’t welcome here,” she said quickly.

“I’ve always rubbed people the wrong way,” Din said with a shrug. “Even in my own tribe. The Armorer was the one who always had my back. She holds that covert together. I think you would like her.”

“Next time you’re in Nevarro, you should let them know that they are more than welcome to come here,” Sabine offered. “I know there is a history, but things change. It’s time for us to forget our old quarrels and come together, now more than ever.”

Din nodded. “I will.”

“I should go take this to Bo-Katan, and let you guys have some time alone. Please tell me you’re not leaving right away?”

Din looked at Cara, who shrugged. She knew they were planning to head out soon, but it was already getting late in the day. “We could be persuaded to stay another night if you bring by breakfast again,” she replied, grinning.

“Sold,” Sabine answered. “See you tomorrow morning.”

After the other Mandalorian had gone, Din walked over to the bed and sat the kid down on it, sighing. Cara followed him and when he turned she wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him close. He relaxed into her embrace, wrapping his arms around her in turn. He bent his head and her forehead met his helmet. She felt him take a deep breath.

“You sure you’re ok?” she asked softly.

“I can’t believe he was able to sneak up on us like that,” he sighed. “I let my guard down.”

Cara was silent for a moment, considering this. “Nah, that’s not it,” she said eventually. “Something else is bothering you.”

Din huffed out a laugh. “You always know.”

“Damn straight. Spit it out, bub.”

“What if he was right?” he said, his voice pained. “What if I made the wrong decision? If I’m not actually worthy of keeping the Darksaber?”

“I think you proved today that you are.”

“That wasn’t me. It was all the kid.”

Cara turned her head slightly to look down at the kid, who had found one of his toys and was chewing on it. “I wouldn’t be so sure. Maybe the kid just helped you use what was already in you.” Din did not seem convinced. “Look,” she added, “I don’t know much about this weapon, but I do know that if there’s anyone that’s ‘worthy’ of having it, it’s you.”

“I think you’re biased,” he replied, laughing.

“Sabine agrees with me,” she retorted, smirking.

“Sabine barely knows me.”

“So that should tell you all you need to know,” she said definitively. Reluctantly, she disentangled herself and picked up the kid. “C’mon, you hungry? I know he is. Let’s find some food and stop thinking about this.”

Din nodded. “Yeah, ok.”

She knew he wouldn’t stop, of course. But she was going to do her best to distract him with food, and the kid, and maybe something even _more_ distracting later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who takes the time to leave comments, they certainly always make my day and help keep me going. Y'all are the best!


	16. Chapter 16

“You sure I can’t convince you to stay a bit longer?” Sabine asked, a melancholy smile gracing her face.

They stood before the Razor Crest, preparing for departure. The kid was still smashing a pastry into his mouth, a rain of sugar falling into his carrier. It would be a nightmare to clean, but the kid’s happiness was enough to make it worth it.

“We have an obligation to look for his people,” Din answered, still looking at the child. “We have to find this Jedi and learn if there is any hope of that.”

It would be so easy, to stop looking and settle down. He’d been surprised how comfortable he’d felt here; how much it had felt like a home he’d never had. But he had to chase down every lead. He asked himself how he would have felt if there was a possibility that his parents were still alive after his Mandalorian family had adopted him? Of course he would try to find them. He owed it to the kid.

Then there was the fact that he hadn’t discussed settling down with Cara since that day on Lothal. They would stay together no matter what—this, he knew for certain—but what did that look like? Would she be happy on Mandalore, or would she always feel like an outsider? Would she feel alone? He gazed at her, standing tall and proud beside him. In some ways she looked more Mandalorian than half of the people here.

“We’ll come back when we can,” she told Sabine, glancing at him as if she could read his thoughts.

To his surprise she stepped forward and hugged the other Mandalorian: a brief, powerful hug of soldiers and comrades. Perhaps his fears of her feeling alone were unfounded. It was a conversation for another time.

“Good luck,” Sabine whispered as they embraced, so low that he only heard it because his helmet’s mic picked it up. “You got this.”

He furrowed his brow. It could be nothing, a simple wishing-well for their journeys to come, but then why did she direct it to Cara and not both of them? Just what had they gotten up to while he was out with the kid?

“I hope I see you again, little guy,” Sabine said, giving the kid a pat on the head.

Din wondered if she realized that she was hoping that they’d fail. He didn’t blame her. He hoped that they would fail too; the first time he wanted to fail at anything in his life.

“I know I don’t have to tell you to keep that thing safe, too,” she added with a nod to the saber clipped to his belt as she straightened up.

He put his hand on it unconciously. “I won’t let you down.”

“I know.” She stepped forward with her hand raised and he clasped it in his. “May the Force be with you.”

“Until our paths meet again,” he answered.

As they boarded the ship and he climbed into the cockpit, Din found himself marveling at how so much had changed in a year. It wasn’t just Cara and the kid, though they loomed largest. He had traveled all over this galaxy, which wasn’t knew, but this time he was constantly leaving behind people who he could call _friends_. Not acquaintences or sources or people he barely tolerated. He’d been a loner for a long time, and just thinking about it was overwhelming.

Cara appeared at the top of the ladder, kid in her arms. As she settled down into her seat she kicked her feet up onto a console, ignoring the fact that she’d have to move when they jumped into hyperspace.

“Where we heading first?” she asked. The kid cooed happily from her lap; he loved looking at the stars.

“I really can’t imagine he’s on Kadavo,” he replied, smoothing the small scrap of paper down where it lay on the console in front of him.

“Been there before?”  
  
“It’s remote, and uninhabited, that’s for sure. And for good reason. Not worth the fuel, not until we know that he’s nowhere else.”

“So that leaves what?”  
  
“Comra and Lah’mu,” he answered as he prepared the ship for lift off. “Lah’mu’s probably the better shot.”

“Why’s that?”  
  
Din shrugged. “Just a hunch.” He glanced back at her, but she was staring out at the sky. “Ready?”  
  
“As I’ll ever be,” she answered, smiling at him broadly.

Watching her sitting there, kid in her lap, he couldn’t believe how lucky he was. How did this happen? What did he, a foundling and an outcast, do to deserve this life? It was probably better not to ask these questions of the universe.

* * *

The trip to Lah’mu was long and boring. They had to jump in and out of hyperspace several times, taking routes that wound their way around the sector. They entertained themselves by playing games—with the kid, and without—training, sleeping, training some more… after a week of confinement they were all more than ready to get off the ship. Once Cara found Din reading a manual on coolant pumps; if she had ever wanted to know how bored you needed to be to read about coolant pumps, it was this amount of bored.

That afternoon he was spending time in the cockpit, fiddling with controls and optimizing their next hyperspace run. The kid was napping, which was a miracle. Somehow he seemed to have unlimited energy and the confined spaces were definitely not providing enough of an outlet.

She sat on a bench, feet kicked up onto the table in front of her, studying the scrap of paper she’d gotten from Sabine. _Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde_. There weren’t that many words, when it came down to it. Honestly she’d memorized it days ago, but she a fair amount of time looking at the piece of paper anyway. Mostly she pondered the question of how to bring it up again. Last time she’d been skittish enough about marriage to ensure he wouldn’t push for a long time, if ever.

“What’s that?” Din said from slightly behind her, near the bottom of the ladder.

Cara had been absently mouthing the words as she thought, and his sudden appearance made her jump a mile. She shoved the paper roughly into a pocket as her feet hit the floor and she lept up, trying to look nonchalant.

“Nothing,” she lied, not meeting his gaze. “Ahh, so, everything going well up there?”

She could practically feel him squinting at her suspiciously from behind the helmet. “Yeah,” he replied eventually. “We’ve got a few hours before we hit the next hyperspace route.”

“Yeah, good,” she sighed in relief at the change of subject. “I mean, annoying, but good.”

He laughed softly at that, and she took it as a sign that he’d dropped the question of the paper. “Kid asleep?”

“Finally,” she confirmed, nodding.

“Good.”

He raised his hands to the side of the helmet and began to lift it off. She dropped her eyes and watched him place the helmet on the table next to them. The corners of her mouth curled upward and she smirked at him as he took a step toward her and slid his hands around her waist. Their bodies pressed together and she felt his warmth radiating into her through the thin cloth of of his light pants.

“Oh, did you have an idea of something we could do to pass the time?” she asked as she slid her hand behind his neck, her fingers drawing tiny circles on his skin.

He exhaled heavily and his arms pulled her even more tightly against him. He leaned down close to her ear and whispered, “Maybe.”

His beard brushed against the side of her face as he spoke, sending tingles of excitement down her spine. She felt his lips press lightly on the corner of her jaw, then again a few centimeters closer to her mouth, then closer and closer. The anticipation built steadily until she felt ready to burst by the time his lips met hers.

Despite the fact that it had been a couple of months now since—well, since they finally stopped being idiots about their feelings for each other—every kiss was still electric. She couldn’t get enough of the feeling of his lips on hers, and it seemed he felt the same way. When they kissed it was like sparring, each of them giving and taking, but these matches always came up a draw.

She felt his hands beginning to slide over her body, roaming across her curves and down along the sides of her hips. One of them traveled back to grab her ass, while the other slid forward to… was he trying to pick her pocket?!

Cara dropped her hand to grab his and pulled away from the kiss, a look of playful admonition on her face. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He shrugged. “Just trying to figure out what you’re hiding from me,” he answered, a teasing note in his voice.

“If you do that, it won’t be much of a surprise,” she warned, removing his hand from her pocket.

He tilted his head slightly. “Oh, a surprise? For me? What is it?”  
  
“Now that I’m definitely not telling you. But I will say that if you’re patient,” she replied, raising his hand to her lips, “it will… be… worth it.” She kissed his knuckles between each word and was gratified to see him swallow hard.

She deposited his hand on her breast and they crashed back into each other again, their kisses more frantic. His hand dropped down to slip under her shirt and found its way back to her breast, kneading it gently through her bra. She moaned softly and ground her hips against the rapidly hardening region of his pants. He pushed her backwards until she bumped up against the table then lifted her up slightly so that she was sitting on the edge of the table.

They broke away from the kiss long enough for him to pull her shirt over her head, and she returned the favor by liberating him from his. As their mouths found each other again she let her hands roam over his bare torso, relishing in the feel of the wiry muscles under his smooth skin. His fingers began working on the waistband of her pants, finding their way past the stretchy fabric. She was practically aching for his touch, a sweet pressure growing steadily deep within her.

She plunged her hand into his pants and he groaned throatily when she found her target. He took the opportunity to move the attention of his lips to her neck, working his way down along her muscles to her collarbone where he sucked a bruise. His had moved steadily further into her pants and she gasped as his fingers found their target, brushing lightly over her most sensitive region.

From inside their room, they both heard the umistakable burble of the kid waking. They froze.

“Maybe he’ll go back to sleep,” she whispered, her hand still wrapped around him.

His lips just barely lifted off her chest. “He’ll be out here in two minutes.”

She laughed softly. “How fast are you?”  
  
“Not that fast,” he answered wryly.

Reluctantly, she withdrew her hand from his pants and he from hers. They pulled away slightly, unwilling to leave each other’s arms just yet. He sighed and she leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss against his shoulder.

“Rain check?” she murmured against his skin.

“You better believe it.”

As promised, a minute later the kid came toddling into the room, looking at them curiously. He made his way to Din’s feet and held his hands up to be picked up. Cara’s knees were still wrapped around his hips and he didn’t disturb them as he bent down and grabbed the kid.

“What’s so important you had to come out right now?” she chided with a soft smile, reaching up to boop his nose gently.

The kid cooed at her, grinning broadly to reveal his small teeth. He tilted his head against playfully Din’s chest, ears flopping wildly and smushing into funny orientations. She honestly never would have guessed that his giggles would warm her heart so much, but here she was.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” she told him, not for the first time and not for the last. “You wanna help mama and papa train?”

If he understood what was being asked, he didn’t show it. She knew he’d be happy with the “game” they’d discovered, though. Reluctantly they disentangled further and Din handed her the kid so that he could grab his helmet. They left their shirts behind and headed to the small training area set up in the cargo bay of the ship.

Cara carried the kid over to one end of the space and deposited him next to a pile of soft foam balls acquired for this purpose. It had been an accident, their discovery of this game, when the kid had wandered into the training area unnoticed one day. He’d seen Cara and Din slinging projectile weapons at each other and apparently thought he’d join in on the fun.

Cara and Din stood next to each other, several meters across the space from where the kid sat. They watched as he stuck his hand out toward the balls and levitated one in the air; then, with a flick of his wrist, it went flying toward them. They never knew which one of them it would be aiming for, and indeed sometimes it would change direction at the last minute. Sometimes they ducked, sometimes they blocked it.

This time Cara snatched the ball out of the air, a new addition to the game, and slung it back toward the kid. This was the main reason for the squishy foam balls, not that any of them ever found their target. The ball stopped short of the kid and he giggled wildly as he let it drop to the ground.

As the kid gained more and more control over the balls, the game really had become a legit training exercise. Cara and Din would both be panting by the time the kid ran out of balls, their muscles sore from having to leap and block in truly unexpected ways. The game also had the benefit of exhausting the kid; he’d have a snack when they finished, and then he’d be out for hours.

One of the balls was flying toward Cara and she watched it carefully, glancing back at the kid frequently. Sometimes it was better to watch the kid than the ball. She saw his hand shift slightly and relaxed; that ball was not headed to her. Din had apparently not been watching so closely because when the ball made a sharp turn he was caught completely unaware. The ball thudded into his helmet and dropped to the ground, bouncing slightly.

The kid erupted in a peel of laughter and rocked backwards in glee. Cara was trying very hard to suppress her own laughter; her lips were pressed tightly together but she couldn’t fight the dimples denting her cheeks.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Din said, but she could tell he was smiling beneath his helmet.

“You gotta admit, he got you pretty good.”

“I admit nothing."

She chuckled at that, taking the opportunity to stretch out her arms. Across the mat, the kid yawned.

“Looks like he’s done for the day. What say you take him to get his snack and put him down for his nap, then we can continue our training?” She cocked and eyebrow and gave him a mischevious smile, and she was pretty sure he got her meaning.

“I dunno I’m pretty sore…” he replied jokingly.

She took a step closer to him and trailed a finger across his sweat-slickened bare chest. “Don’t worry, we’ll work out some _other_ muscles.”

He shivered and gave an almost imperceptible nod, apparently rendered speechless. She watched as he went and grabbed the kid, moving quickly toward the main area of the ship. Laughing softly to herself, she continued stretching out to work on the tight areas of her arms and legs.

By the time he returned she was feeling loose and relaxed, which she knew probably wasn’t fair given that he’d had no time to do so. He walked over to her as nonchalantly as possible, but she could see he was wound up. Stepping around behind him, she grabbed his shoudlers and worked her fingers into his knotted muscles.

“Mmm, you need to relax,” she purred behind him, which had the opposite effect.

“I thought we were training?”

“I thought you were sore?”

She leaned up against his back, pressing their sticky bodies together. She felt him relax slightly as she continued to work the knots out of his shoulders, but that, apparently, was a trap. Suddenly he dropped down slightly and stepped to the side, sending a leg sweeping behind hers. Her legs shot out from under her but she still had hold of his shoulders and she clamped them tightly, bringing him down with her as she fell.

When they hit the floor he landed half on top of her, knocking the breath out of her for a moment. Before he could use his position to an advantage, she hooked a leg over one of his and twisted herself out from under him in an attempt to pin him to the ground. He was too quick, though, and trapped her leg to block her movement. Both on their backs, they exchanged a few rapid punches and blocks, each one trying to catch the other off guard.

Finally she managed to land an elbow to his side and he exhaled hard. His grip on her loosened just enough to allow her to lever herself up and over. She straddled him triumphantly and grabbed his wrists before he could mount a retaliation. Grinning, she leaned down to kiss his throat, though perhaps _kiss_ was the wrong word to use. She sucked hard enough to bruise, leaving her mark of victory upon him, then nipped her way down toward his collarbone. His groans reverberated through her head and down her body, building the pressure within her once again. She slid her hips backward until they met his and she felt his erection pressing into her ass, and—in an unthinking moment of weakness—she let her grip on his wrists losen.

His hands got free of hers immediately and found their way to her waist, sliding on her wet skin. They dropped to her hips and gripped tightly, and once she realized his muscles had tensed again it was too late. He flipped her, sending her crashing hard into the mat, and straddled her. He held her wrists to the floor next to her head, as she had done to him, but apparently only belatedly realized this meant he couldn’t pull off his helmet.

She grinned at him wickedly, squirming enticingly between his legs. “Whatcha gonna do now, hmmmm?”

“Well,” he huffed, clearly trying to keep it together, “if I let your hands go, you’ll flip me.”

“Uh huh,” she confirmed.

“But if I don’t, there won’t be any kissing.”

“You could come down here and let me kiss your throat again,” she suggested with mock innocence.

“Mmmm, I think that will compromise my position.”

“Quite the predicament you’ve gotten yourself into.”

He was silent for a moment except for his heavy breathing, apparently thinking, and then he seemed to come to a decision. He pulled her hands down to her sides and attempted to pin them under his knees. This would have worked except that her skin was slick with sweat and she wrested one hand free. In his haste to grab it again he allowed her to liberate the other one, and it was all over.

This time she rocked her hips up sharply and sent him flipping over her head onto his back. It was a favorite move of hers, and one she’d used on him in their first meeting. She heard him exhale hard and knew that she had a few seconds before he regained his breath. Rocking her entire body she rolled backwards to land on him, getting his arms pinned to his side under her thighs. She planted her hands on the ground next to his head and leered down at him. She could feel him struggling to get his hands free, but it was no use: she had them pinned tight and he was running out of steam.

“Do you yield?” she asked, her head close enough to his that her heavy breaths fogged up his visor.

“You’re so sure it’s over?” he breathed, his chin raised defiantly.

Cara smirked and sat up straight, then with one smooth movement she peeled off her sports bra. He gulped. She leaned down, breasts brushing against his chest, and nibbled his throat again. “Do you yield?” she murmured.

“Cara,” he groaned, his arms struggling against her thighs again.

“Say the words.”

“I yield, I yield!” The words burst out of him like he was pleading for his life.

Her thighs relaxed just enough to allow him to wrest his hands from her grip and he immediately grabbed her breasts, palming them desperately. She shuddered at his touch and placed on either side of his helmet.

“Off?” she asked, waiting for confirmation.

He nodded quickly. “Yeah, off.”

She closed her eyes and slid the helmet off, hearing his head thump softly against the floor. Almost immediately she dropped to capture his lips with hers, finally. They were already breathless from the prior exertion, so their kisses quickly devolved into gasps and desperate mashing of mouths. Her hands cradled the sides of his head and closed into fists as she tangled her fingers into his hair. One of his hands slid around to plunge into her pants and grab her ass, pulling her body harder against his.

This time when she felt him move underneath her to roll her onto her back, she didn’t resist. He broke away from her lips and kissed a line downward between her breasts and across the smooth plane of her stomach until he reached her waistband. He yanked her pants and underwear past her hips and down to her ankles, then completely off.

She felt his lips caress the inside of her ankle and he began working his way upward along her calf. After the earlier frenzy, his movements were agonizingly slow. As he passed her knee and his lips caressed her inner thigh, she felt herself breathing harder in anticipation. His beard tickled her thighs as he kissed her lightly between her legs and she gasped, aching for more.

His tongue slipped along her, swirling around her sensitive bud and sending waves pleasure lancing up through her body. She reached down to tangle her fingers in his hair and grab his head, encouraging him to provide more pressure and friction. The sensation of his fingers entering her made her eyes roll back in her head. He curled them forward and the waves of pleasure came began to come crashing down around her. Somehow it kept building, a pleasure so intense it was almost painful, until finally starbursts of color exploded behind her eyelids and she cried out.

As she rode out the waves upon waves of exquisite sensation, she gasped at every movement of his tongue and her grip on his hair loosened. Her chest was heaving and she threw an arm up over her face as she tried to get ahold of herself. She felt him slide up next to her, kissing her shoulder softly. Lifting her arm slightly she bent her head to bury her face in his hair and inhaled deeply. The musky scent of sweat and sex—a scent that was uniquely _him_ —filled her nostrils, only adding to the bliss of the moment.

He shifted slightly and she felt his erection press into her thigh. Smiling against his head, she reached down to rub him through his pants, eliciting a deep moan that reverberated through her chest. He let her push him over onto his back and she kissed him quickly before dropping down to pull his pants off. She straddled his legs and slid back up to rub her wetness along his length. He shuddered at the contact, reaching up and pulling her down into a kiss again. She rocked her hips against his as one of his hands grabbed her ass and the other cupped her breast. Their movements were rapidly becoming more and more frantic.

“Oh gods, Cara,” he gasped between kisses, “please…”

He didn’t need to elaborate further. Lifting her hips, she reached down to guide him into her. Both of him inhaled sharply at the sensation and began to move quickly together, chasing the pleasure. Wimpering, unintelligible sounds began erupting from his mouth and she leaned down to smother them with a kiss. She ground her hips down at the bottom of each thrust, pushing harder and harder until she knew neither of them had long to go.

Her orgasm crashed down suddenly around her and she arched her back, throwing her head back in the air and gasping through a throaty moan. She felt his hands clench on her hips and he jolted upward as he found his own release, bucking wildly against her.

She collapsed onto him, burying her face in his neck and peppering him with kisses. Their bodies were deliciously sticky, chests pressed together and pushing against each other with each heaving breath.

“Some training session,” she mumbled against his throat. Her fingers trailed through his hair, twirling his curls lazily.

“Mmm, well I’m certainly exhausted.”

They both laughed breathlessly, seemingly too fatigued to move. Well, there was no rush; the kid would be out for hours still, and maybe after a little rest there could be more fun to be had…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for sticking with me for this epic craziness, and thank you so much for all your kind comments. I love so much hearing your thoughts and ideas!! :D


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get excited because there is A LOT packed into this chapter!

This had to be one of the smallest markets Din had ever seen. There were fresh fruits and vegetables in abundance, at least, but fixing the coolant pump that had started making funny noises halfway there would have to wait. Cara was a few stalls down from him, kid strapped to her back, haggling with a vendor over an enormous basket of fruit. The kid look disinterested, but Din knew he’d demolish the basket in a flash given the opportunity.

The market was reasonably busy this morning, though perhaps not by most standards. It certainly made keeping track of the surroundings easy. Gideon was dead, and they had no reason to fear someone was coming after them, but old habits die hard. What was more, he just couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being monitored. Maybe it was just because they were outsiders—it’s not like Lah’mu got many visitors—but it still put him on edge.

“You figure out who’s watching us?” Cara said as she sidled up to him holding the basket, startling out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“You feel it, right? Someone following us.”

“Yeah,” he confirmed glancing around again. “And no, I don’t know. Whoever it is, they’re good.”

A scowl twisted her lips. “That’s bad.”

“Maybe.” She furrowed her brow in response to this, and he sighed. “I don’t know, maybe it’s nothing. We’re not exactly locals.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she answered, clearly not convinced.

“C’mon, we have a few more things to pick up. And try to act natural, yeah?”  
  
“I’m _naturally_ suspicious.”

Din laughed softly at this and the defiant smirk that accompanied it. “You need help with that basket?”  
  
“Do I look like I do?” she shot back as they started walking down the street.

“No, but people are going to think I’m a terrible hus—partner.” He had not caught that slip of the tongue soon enough. She cocked an eyebrow at him. “It is what they think. Tell me that if you saw us in a market you wouldn’t think we were married.”

“I didn’t know anything about Mandalorian customs before,” she protested, but when he tipped his head at her she relented. “Yeah, ok. We look like a family.”  
  
“We are a family.”

“But not a married one.” Her voice was even and difficult to read.

“No,” he said quietly.

He had certainly not meant to bring up this topic again; the last thing he wanted was Cara to feel pressured. They walked in silence for a while, and he wondered what she was thinking about.

“Tell me more about Mandalorian weddings,” she said, and he almost stopped dead in his tracks.

“What?” he asked, as if he hadn’t heard her.

Was that a smile playing on her lips? “I’m curious,” she shrugged. “Do you give each other gifts?”

He was dumbfounded by this turn of events. Where was this coming from? She was looking at him expectantly. “Uh, well, not always,” he replied. “But some people do.”

“What kinds of things?”

“Weapons, mostly.”

She nodded, as if processing this. “Makes sense. Do you wear anything special?”

“Polish your armor up, I guess.”

“Do you need anything else? Wine?”

He gave a short laugh at that. “Wine is always a nice addition, but no, nothing else is necessary. Just the couple.”

“Sounds nice.”

Din stared at her, but Cara kept looking steadfastly away from him, pretending to be interested in some of the stalls. He felt like he was missing something important. Before she could move further down the road he reached to grab her arm and stepped in front of her.

“What is this all about?” he asked, searching her face for some answer.

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Told you, I’m just curious.”

He knew his suspicious demeanor was not lost on her, but she refused to elaborate. They walked further along in silence. He didn’t even know what else they needed to buy—some vegetables, maybe, and a bottle of something alcoholic—but Cara seemed to be in no hurry. She paused briefly next to a stall offering a wide array of toys, long enough for the kid to get interested. He reached out from his place on her back and cooed excitedly.

“Don’t you have enough toys?” Cara asked, laughing at him.

“That’s a silly question,” Din told her.

“Yeah well we’re gonna run out of room on the ship pretty soon.”

The kid whined, ears drooping. Din could see Cara’s resolve fading despite herself, and had to smile. The kid had both of them wrapped around his finger.

“Fine, one. But it’s gotta be small.”

She reached down and picked up a small wooden bantha, its coat and horns artfully carved. Din wandered where the artist had even seen a bantha, way out here. The kid burbled happily at the selection and she paid the vendor.

“He’s adorable, if you don’t mind me saying,” the old woman said, waving at the kid.

Cara laughed. “And he certainly knows it.”

“Pardon my intrusion, but I haven’t seen you all around here before. And I do think I would have noticed.”

Yes, they did make an odd and distinctive group. “We’re just passing through,” Din answered. “Looking for someone named Skywalker, and had word he might be here.”

“Skywalker?” the woman replied, her brow furrowed. “Don’t think I know anyone by that name round these parts.”

“What about the Jedi?” Cara asked.

The old woman was doing a good job with her clueless expressions, but there was something cagey behind it. She knew more than she was saying. “Can’t say I know anything about them,” she replied.

“Thanks anyway,” Cara said cheerfully, and he could tell from her tone of voice that she had noticed it too.

When they’d moved a sufficient distance away from the booth, she spoke again, pitching her voice low. “So, something’s going on here. First we’re being followed, and now this?”

“Seems like it,” he replied quietly.

“Ideas?”

“Mmm, maybe tomorrow we nose around some of the old buildings here. Make ourselves obvious. Whoever’s watching is bound to trip up at some point.”

Cara nodded in agreement and wandered over toward a stall full of bottles of brightly colored liquors. “What do you think?” she asked him.

Din shrugged. “You know I can’t really tell the difference.”

She smirked at him and set about inspecting the different bottles. The seller watched her pull aside a large bottle of greenish liquid, then pick up a smaller bottle.

“That one’s a special whiskey from Muunilinst, very fine,” the seller said, nodding at the small bottle. “For you, a special deal.”

“Oh yeah?” she replied, eyebrow cocked. She set the bottle next to her other choice and smiled up at Din. “Lars told me to bring him some weird whiskeys, and I think definitely qualifies.”

Turning back to the seller, she gave him a smile that meant the seller was about to give her a much better deal than he’d previously intended. “I’m lookng for a nice bottle of wine,” she explained. Din stiffened at this request given their previous conversation, but if she noticed she didn’t show it.

“Oh yes, I have a very nice one for you.” He stooped behind the table and withdrew a dusty bottle. “A fine vintage from Dantooine.”

She took the bottle from him and inspected it closely. Din had no idea how much she actually knew about wine, but she certainly _looked_ like she knew a lot. She squinted at the seller. “I haven’t heard of this vintner. You’re not trying to just get rid of some old crap that wasn’t selling, are you?”

“Oh no no,” the seller replied quickly, looking aghast. “I saved this one for a special customer. For your special occasion!”

“What special occasion?” Din asked, but they both ignored him.

“We’ll take these, then,” Cara said to the seller, placing the wine with the other bottles.

“Very nice, very nice. For you, one hundred credits.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t know what you take me for…” she growled.  
  
“Did I say one hundred?” the seller said quickly. “I meant only fifty, of course! Of course.”

“Thank you so very much,” she replied, smiling sweetly.

Din had to stifle a laugh. No one got deals like Cara.

“So really, what’s the wine for?” he asked as they walked away.

She smiled with a look of absolute innocence. “Oh, no reason.”

He really couldn’t help but feel like he was missing something. Was she expecting something, and he was just oblivious? Was it was almost some anniversary of theirs that he was forgetting? He didn’t _think_ so. Whatever it was, he needed to figure it out, fast.

* * *

It was a warm evening, and she reclined in a chair she had dragged out from the ship and set in the soft grass. She had one eye on the kid, playing with his new toy and some older ones nearby, and one on the absolutely breathtaking sunset. She wore only her light shorts and a t-shirt, enjoying the warm breeze on her skin as she dug her toes into the grass.

Din was back on the ship, fidgeting with something and grumbling about supplies on this planet. Really he should come out here and enjoy the sunset with her. She was about to call out to him when he appeared at the top of the ramp wiping his hands with a rag. After a moment he descended and crossed the grassy space to stand next to her chair.

“Nice night,” he said.

“Mmm,” she agreed. She was quiet for a stretch, watching the sun dip below the horizon. “It’s pleasant here. Peaceful.”

She could see him look down at her out of the corner of her eye. “The kind of place you’d want to settle down?”

“Might be a little _too_ quiet.”

“Reminds me a bit of Sorgan.”

She nodded slowly. “Like I said, I would have gotten bored there. I could use a bit more excitement in my life. Only a bit,” she added when she could sense him smirking at her.

“I’ve been thinking,” he announced.

“Oh?”

She looked up at him, the beskar of his helmet gleaming in the red light of the sunset. He was facing out at the horizon, and she saw him take a deep breath as if steeling himself for something.

“I know it hasn’t been that long since we talked about this,” he said hesitantly, “but I dunno, the time on Mandalore, our conversation today… got me wondering.”

Cara remained silent, not trusting herself to speak. She had provoked him into this, hadn’t she? She wanted this. So why was she so nervous? He stepped in front of her in the fading light and knelt down onto the ground to face her. Reaching forward, he grabbed her hands in his and she had to keep from swallowing hard.

“I love you, Cara. I know it doesn’t really change anything—and if I’ve misread this situation and you’re not ready, that’s totally fine—but I was hoping that you might do me the honor of… making it official?”

She’d been trying and failing to hold back the smile growing on her face, and by the end she was grinning broadly, dimples digging into her cheeks.

“Din Djarin, are you asking me to marry you?” she asked, surprising herself at the emotion in her own voice.

He dipped his head slightly, a soft laugh rumbling through his chest. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

A kind of ecstatic half-laugh, half-sob escaped her and she bit her bottom lip to get try to regain some semblance of control. She nodded rapidly and slid a hand behind his neck, pulling him forward until her head met his helmet.

“Yeah,” she whispered, finding her voice, “I will.”

After a few seconds he withdrew his hands from hers and raised them to lift off his helmet. The light was fading rapidly now, and he was completely silhouetted in front of her. Her hand moved to cup his jaw and she ran her thumb over his cheek. She was shocked to find them damp.

“Are you crying?”

“Of course not,” he answered, following it up with a sniffle.

They both started laughing and she leaned in to kiss him softly, wiping away the tears with her thumbs. “Who knew you were such a softy?”  
  
“You did.”

“It’s true. Such a soft interior under all that beskar,” she whispered, kissing him again.

From nearby the kid cooed softly and she felt his small hands wrap around her leg. It was nearly dark, and when she looked down at him she could see the first stars of the night reflecting back in his big eyes.

“We should get you inside,” she told him, leaning back and picking him up into her lap. “You got your new toy?”

He held it up so she could see its outline in the low light. She reached up and ruffled his ears gently, and he grinned back at her. In front of her, Din picked up his helmet and stood, holding his hand out toward her. When she took it, he pulled her up and slipped his arm around her waist. The kid was partly smooshed between them as he pulled their bodies together in a brief hug. He kept his arm around her, hand resting lightly on her hip, as they walked back to the ship.

“So when do you want to, you know, say the words?” she asked.

“How about tomorrow? We could stick around here for the day, I could polish my armor…”  
  
Cara laughed. “You Mandalorians and your armor.”

“What? You only get married once.” He squeezed her side and she felt him smiling as he placed a kiss on the side of her head.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Tomorrow.”

* * *

The day didn't feel any different, really. She rolled out of bed later than both Din and the kid, slurping down caf as she watched them both putter about the ship. She didn't know why it should, except for the fact that it was a day she never thought would happen. Her _wedding_ day. Was this really happening? And she was ok with it?

She was more than ok with it. Every once in a while a feeling of giddy happiness would bubble to the surface like an erupting volcano and she'd have to chew on her lip to keep herself in check. Gods above, what had he done to her? Her twenty-year-old self wouldn’t have recognized her now.

Din spent much of the afternoon polishing his armor until it was so shiny it was hard to look at. Even his ancient scarred cuisse, the last remnant of his old armor, was buffed into some kind of a shine. He got so wrapped up into polishing that he polished _her_ beskar, which was just as well. She knew she’d never get it as shiny as he did.

For her part, she spent an inordinant amount of time plating her hair into a perfect braid. She was always careful with her braid—it was her one vanity—but today there was not a hair out of place. She thought that she should be wearing something nicer than just her everyday stuff, but he wouldn't have heard of it. If her armor was good enough to save her life in battle, it was good enough for their wedding.

“I think it’s going to be another beautiful sunset tonight,” Cara said, leaning on the wall as she watched Din carefully reassembling one of his vambraces.

“I get the feeling that this place has nothing but beautiful sunsets.”

“Seems like a perfect time for a wedding.”

He looked up at her. “Let's just make sure we have plenty of light?” When she looked at him quizzically, he added, “I want to see your beautiful face.”

She smiled, but she wasn’t sure she believed him. At least, not entirely. What was he up to now? Well, she wouldn't have to wait long to find out. Din’s armor was nearly fully in place, and she already wore hers. The knife he’d given her—it seemed like forever ago—was attached prominently to her belt.

When he’d finished, he stood and grabbed one of her hands, giving it a light squeeze. She hoped her smile hid the inexplicable nervousness she felt. She’d gone over the words probably fifty times that day, but she still worried she’d mess them up. At this point they were running through her head on loop.

The kid toddled after them as they left the ship and walked across the grass to find the best view. The bottom edge of the sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, throwing warm orange light over everything.

They faced each other, hand in hand, and the kid stood in front of him as if he were a tiny officiant of the ceremony. Cara's heart was pounding in her chest and she felt like she just might explode.

“Cara,” Din began, taking a deep breath. “You mean everything to me. We are already a clan of three, but today we bind ourselves irrevocably together.”

He paused, as if collecting himself, and she nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak just yet.

“You may not realize this, but since the day we met I have struggled with how to reconcile the life I’ve always known with the life I never knew I wanted. I has always killed me that I could never give you all of myself as you have given me.”

“Din, what…?” she asked hesitantly, but he shook his head and squeezed her hands before she could say anything more.

“Please, let me finish,” he said, the emotion in his voice coming through the modulator.

She nodded, unsure of exactly what was happening. Why was he talking like this? Was this some part of the ceremony that she didn’t know about? It didn't seem like it.

“The thing is, the Way was never one thing. There is no one way to follow it. I know that now. Believe me when I say that I have thought more about this than anything else in my life. This is not a decision that I have made lightly, but I know in my heart that it is the right one. Do you trust me?”

She stared at him, uncomprehending. “Of course I do. Always.”

He withdrew his hands from hers and placed them on either side of his helmet. Her eyes went wide and she sucked in a sharp breath of shock. This couldn't be what it seemed. Instinctively she dropped her eyes to his chest as he pulled his helmet off and dropped it softly to the ground next to them.

“Cara, look at me,” he said, his voice almost pleading.

She could feel herself trembling and tried to will herself to stop. She wanted to protest, to say that he didn’t have to do this for her, to keep him from making a mistake. But how could she say those things after what he just told her? How could she stand in front of him and tell him she trusted him, then question his choice? She couldn’t. Her mouth opened as she struggled with a reply. “Din… what about your creed?”

He reached for her hands and held them again, squeezing them tight. “ _This_ is my creed. This is _our_ Way. Cara, please.”

She watched as he removed one hand and lifted it to her chin. A gentle pressure slowly tipped her face upward. She took a deep, trembling breath, and let her eyes track over his face.

It was a shock, but not in the way he probably would have guessed. No, the surprise of his face was how much it wasn't a surprise. His high cheekbones, his square jaw, his broad, aquiline nose, his full lips, the small crinkles at the sides of his eyes. She knew these things better than she knew her own face. She had pictured this face in her mind's eye a million times. The one thing she could have never imagined was the depth of his dark eyes, and the way that they looked directly into her soul.

Tears stung in her eyes and her breath caught in her throat, but her mouth was stretched into a smile so wide she thought her cheeks might split apart.

“You ok?” he asked, his thumb wiping a hot tear off her cheek.

“Me?” she laughed over something that might have been a sob. “What about you?”  
  
He gave his head a small shake. “I’m… good. Another person seeing my face feels…”  
  
“Weird?” she offered, similing wryly.

“Right,” he finished. “It feels right because that person is you.”

He squeezed her hands in his, looking at her with so much love she could hardly breathe. She had never felt like she was missing anything before, truly, but she was wrong. Seeing him look at her like that was the most amazing feeling in the universe.

“Hope you’re not disappointed,” he added. His smile was playful but she could hear real fragility in his voice.

“Nothing about you could disappoint me,” she answered sincerely. “Besides, I could have painted a picture of you before this that would have shocked you. You know, if I could paint.”

He laughed at that, and watching him laugh sent another wave emotion surging through her. “I love you, Cara.”  
  
“I love you, Din.”

From their feet, the kid cooed. They both looked down at him and he smiled up at them. He waddled forward a step and grabbed Din's leg into a hug.

“How does he always know these things?” she asked, shaking her head.

Din laughed. “He _is_ fifty years old.”

The kid pulled on Din’s pants and pointed out at the sun, which was more than halfway sunk behind the horizon by now. Their shadows were long and the low red light glinted off their beskar.

“I think he's telling us to get a move on,” Din said, looking back up at her. “Ready to get married?”  
  
In all the excitement, Cara had nearly forgotten why they were standing out here. She nodded rapidly. “More than ready.”

“I can say the words in Basic, and then we can repeat them together?” he suggested.

She shook her head and smiled to see his brow furrow. “No. We say them together. In Mando’a.”

When she had thought of this moment, she always had to imagine what his look of surprise would look like, knowing that she would never see it. What she imagined couldn’t hold a candle to the face he was making now before her. To think that she might have never seen this made tears spring to her eyes again.

“How?” he breathed, his eyes searching hers.

This feeling, of having her eyes meeting hers. She would never get used to it. She shrugged and smiled enigmatically. “A friend. Are you ready?”

He nodded, looking amazed and excited all at once.

“Mhi solus tome,” they both said, some words slightly out of sync as they found their rhythm.

“Mhi solus dar’tome.”

“Mhi me’dinui an.” Tears glittered in his eyes, and he swallowed hard to try to keep under control.  
  
“Mhi ba’juri verde.”

When they finished they crashed together, desperately seeking each other’s lips, and she tasted the salt of his tears, or hers, or more likely both of them together. The light had faded significantly by the time they leaned their foreheads together, breathing hard and smiling like fools. She could still make out his features and marveled at them; marveled at the fact that she was really _seeing_ them.

“I can’t believe…” he breathed, shaking his head gently against hers. “That was the best gift you could have ever given me.”

She pulled back and looked at him looking back at her with unfettered adoration. “Well it’s a good thing that I had it in my back pocket because nothing else could come close to this,” she told him, tracing her finger over his jaw line.

“I have something else for you,” he said softly as he reached into a pocket.

“What?” she exclaimed in mock outrage. “That’s not fair, I don't have anything else for you.”

He smiled at her broadly, his eyes squinting with mirth. “Well don’t think of it as a gift, really.”

He held out his hand and opened it, letting something drop down suspended on a cord. The last rays of sun glinted off the metal of a mythosaur pendant just like the one she’dlast seen in the kid’s possession.

“Is this yours?” she asked, sure the confusion was obvious on her face.

He shook his head. “No, the kid’s still got that one. This is yours. I picked it up on Mandalore.”

“I don’t understand. Didn’t you get yours when you swore your creed? When you became a Mandalorian?”

“I did,” he confirmed. “Cara, I don’t care if you haven't sworn an oath before the Mand’alor. You are as much a Mandalorian as I am. You proved that tonight, and you prove it every day in the way you live. You deserve this.”

She didn’t know if she totally believed him, but she wasn't going to argue with him about this of all things. She bent her head slightly and he slipped the pendant over her neck so that it hung down onto her chest. She felt the weight of its meaning, heavier than the small pendant alone could impart, but there was something else. It felt… right.

“I’ll wear it with honor,” she promised, emotion thickening her voice again.

“I know you will.”

The sun had sunk below the horizon and twilight was taking over the sky. The kid gurgled and Din bent down to pick him up, his other arm never leaving her waist. She smiled at the pair of them, father and son looking at each other eye-to-eye for the first time. She would have expected the kid to be more perturbed, but he’d been avoiding looking at Din’s face for a while now, so he must have known somehow.

“What do you think, kid?” Din asked, smiling at him.

The kid reached over, grabbed Din’s mustache, and yanked. He cackled at Din’s yelp of pain, and Cara tried to surpress her own laughter.

“Ready to go drink that wine?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he answered, laughing despite himself. “Let's go celebrate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, my own heart was pounding with emotion when I was writing this. As I've mentioned before, I struggled with the helmet removal, but when I figured out they'd be getting married it seemed only natural for him to choose that moment. I hope the buildup to this moment, and the moment itself, is true to the character and the relationship. 
> 
> So much love to all of you who've stuck through this with me for so long. This isn't over, but I hope this is the payoff you've been waiting for. Thank you for all your beautiful and supportive comments, they really keep me going.


	18. Chapter 18

On one hand, it didn’t feel any different to be married. The morning had come far too early—after a late night of too much wine followed by too much liquor—but had been reasonably normal. When he’d felt the gentle tug of the kid climbing up the sheets he slipped out of their shared bed and left Cara slumbering while he made the caf and gave the kid some food so that he wouldn’t go jumping on her. All a completely normal part of their lives over the past weeks.

But then he’d carried the mug of caf back into the small bedroom and she’d smiled at the scent, her eyes still closed and face mashed into the pillow, and he was struck by a wave of emotion. That was his _wife_ , laying there before him. When he sat on the edge of the bed her eyes fluttered open and he felt her gaze—so utterly full of love it took his breath away—play over his features. This was entirely novel, of course, and still made his pulse spike every time. He supposed he would get use to it eventually, but for now it was still new and wonderful.

“Hey tall, dark, and handsome,” she said, her voice low and husky with sleep.

“I’m not that tall,” he replied with a smirk.

“Oh, but you are that handsome?”  
  
“Your words, not mine.”

She laughed and grabbed his shirt to pull him down toward her but he was still holding two mugs of caf.

“Hey!” he yelped, trying to keep the hot liquid from sloshing. “You’re gonna make me spill this everywhere.”

“And then you might be forced to take off your wet clothes?” she asked eagerly, but she let go of his shirt all the same.

Din huffed out a laugh and set the two mugs on the bedside table. “If you want to get me out of my clothes there are easier ways, you know.”

Now that he was unencumbered she grabbed him again, mashing his mouth against hers. “Mmm, are there?” she mumbled against his lips.

She slid a hand up under the loose end of his shirt to splay her fingers across his skin, her hot touch making tendrils of desire coil deep in his gut. He leaned in and reached around to tangle his fingers in her hair while his other hand cupped her breast through the thin tank top she wore to sleep.

The kid’s soft burble beside them snapped them out of their reverie. They pulled out of the kiss, resting their foreheads together for a second and laughing softly. Din sat back and rubbed the kid’s head gently, then grabbed one of the mugs and handed it to Cara. She took it gratefully as she pushed herself into a sitting position, sipping gingerly.

“Please tell me the plan for today does not include anything strenuous,” she grimaced, putting a palm to one temple.

He chuckled at her, though he had to agree. “You were the one who broke out that weird liquor when we finished the wine.”

“Hey, we were celebrating!” she shot back. “Not my fault that stuff was way more alcoholic than I thought.”

“We _could_ stay in today…”

She sighed and shook her head, eyes screwed shut. “No, we should get it over with.” Cracking one eyelid, she smirked at him. “Not that I wouldn’t want to spend the day in bed with you.”  
  
“I think the kid would have something to say about that,” he replied, unable to keep disappointment from lacing his tone.

On cue, the kid gurgled at them, smiling obliviously when he drew their attention. Din had to smile back.

“C’mon you little womp rat,” he growled playfully, grabbing the kid and pulling him onto his lap. “Let’s go find you something else to eat and leave your mom to finish her caf in peace.” He stood, balancing the kid on one hip, and smiled down at her.

“You already shower?” she asked.

He shook his head. “You can have the first one.”

“Or we could save time…” she husked suggestively, waggling her brows at him.  
  
Din laughed. “You know that will absolutely save no time. Or water, which is surprisingly expensive here.”

“We could make it really quick?”  
  
He arched an eyebrow at her.

Cara sighed heavily, trying to fight a smile. “Ok, you’re right. After we’re done with our recon, then.”

“I thought you didn’t want to do anything strenuous today?”

At that she burst out laughing and he felt another wave of emotion surge through him. Nothing was different, and everything was different. The kid cooed at him, reminding Din that he was still waiting for the rest of his breakfast.

“Get your shower,” he told her as he moved toward the door of the small room, “and don’t use all the hot water.”

“No promises!” she called after him, but he knew she wouldn’t. Cara took soldier’s showers, using barely any water, unless there was some reason to prolong it.

Out in the common area of the ship he sat the kid in his chair and worked on putting together the rest of his breakfast. The kid ate like a demon, and Din wondered if it was ever going to slow or if he’d be eating them broke for years to come. They still had quite a bit of the money from the Lothal job—aided by much of the generosity they’d recieved since on Lothal and Mandalore—but it was only a matter of time before they’d need to take another.

As he was pondering these things Cara strolled out of the bedroom stark naked, heading for the shower. This was also a typical thing ever since they’d started sharing a room and a bed—why wear clothes to the shower, she had argued—and every morning he certainly enjoyed the view. The difference was that this morning was the first one that she turned and looked him right in the face.

“So that’s the face you make,” she smirked. She paused and stretched to show off her assets.

He felt himself flush, suddenly self-concious. “What face?”

“The one where you’re ogling me shamelessly.”

She was smiling, but he still dropped his eyes uncertainly. “Should I not?”

“It’s not like I didn’t know you were doing it before. Besides,” she said, sauntering over to him seductively, “what woman doesn’t want to be ogled by her husband?”

She trailed one finger down the front of his shirt as she grinned mischeviously, and he swallowed hard. He could practically feel the heat radiating off her naked body, inches from his, her perfect breasts just asking to be touched. He could feel all his blood rushing to his groin, and had to close his eyes. This was neither the time nor the place.

She turned on her heel and breezed away from him back toward the shower. “Ogle all you want,” she called, “as long as I get to ogle back.”

* * *

“What is this place, anyway?” Cara asked as she wiped the back of her hand over her damp brow.

It was rather warm, and they’d been walking for a while now to get out to this pile of rocks and toppled columns. It didn’t look like much, to be perfectly honest, and she was seriously doubting it was worth the trouble. The day had gotten warmer than anticipated and the bright sun beat down on them mercilessly.

Din tapped a button and a flickering green map projected up from his vambrace. “Planetary survey just says ‘temple ruin.’ Probably not Jedi, but you never know.”

“Ruin is right,” she huffed. She hacked idly at vine covering one of the half-standing columns with a cheap machete she’d picked up at the market. “Pretty sure no one has been here for centuries.”

The kid was interested, though. He was practically standing in his carrier, little hands grabbing the edge. She watched him closely, concerned he’d launch himself out of the carrier at any moment.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Din said, nodding ahead of them.

She saw what he was indicating immediately. It was easy to miss: the stalks of a few leaves cracked in half, and a faint depression in the mossy ground. Months ago Cara would never have noticed the signs, but she’d learned a lot just being around him. Someone had been through here, and they had been careful not to leave prints in the clean dirt. It was hard not to leave any trace, though, and Din would find them.

“You think they’re still here?” she asked quietly.

He shrugged. “Hard to say. Maybe it’s nothing.”

“Then why were they trying to be sneaky?”

Din sighed. “Let’s just be careful, yeah?”

Cara reached down to unholster one blaster, flashing a quick grin at him. “I’m always careful.”

They moved quickly and quietly around the ruin, looking for any more sign of another person, but it was deserted. Whoever had been here was gone. Cara was almost disappointed: it had been so long since she was in a proper fight. Using the machete, she hacked a path though the dense foliage into the interior of the ruin. They crept carefully inside, but any stealth was destroyed by the kid’s excited babbling.

There was little to see inside the old temple, though: just more tumbled rocks covered by moss and vines. She poked around, turning a few smaller stones over, but even the ones with faint markings meant little and less to her.

“Sorry kid, but I don’t think there’s anything here,” she told the kid.

He whined and his ears drooped as he seemed to come to the same conclusion. He reached out his hands toward a particularly large boulder that seemed to have fallen on some sort of altar and closed his eyes in concentration. The boulder shifted and Cara jumped; she should have been expecting that, but all the same she was standing far too close to it. Retreating back to near Din, she watched as the boulder rolled sideways off its perch and went crashing out of the ruin.

The crushed altar lie before them, then, but if they’d harbored any small hope that it would reveal new information, it was dashed away immediately. Next to nothing was intact. Even the kid sat back in his carrier in a huff, a grumpy expression on his tiny face. Din approached and crouched down to inspect the area that the boulder had covered, brushing aside some of the loose rubble. She watched as he picked something up off the ground and inspected it closely. He shuffled back to her and held his hand out with the object inside. She look down to see a small smashed silvery ornament, but the weight of a boulder had long since obliterated any details.

“Any thoughts?” he asked.

She shrugged and shook her head, furrowing her brow. “Doesn’t look like anything to me.”

“Yeah, me either.”

“Let’s go back into town, yeah?” Cara suggested with a sigh. “I could use a drink.”

He looked down at the miffed kid and back up at her. “Yeah, ok. Maybe something will turn up there.”

* * *

Din couldn’t shake the feeling of disquiet that seemed to follow them from the ruin. They had reached the edge of town again, and it was clear that no one was following them, but he still felt on edge. The kid was laying back in his carrier, his eyelids drooping in exhaustion at all the excitement. They were obviously all tired, and he was feeling the drain from their late night acutely.

It was only because of this that their attacker got the drop on them. Din caught a glimpse of a dark, robed figure disappearing around a corner in front of them and knew Cara did as well from the look she shot him. He saw her draw her blaster as they approached the corner, but the attack came suddenly from behind them.

The figure rushed them, forcing them to either side of the narrow street. Din immediately looked for the kid’s carrier, but the attacker seemed to be uninterested. This was unexpected to say the least. Their assailant seemed to be moving faster than a normal person, and Din couldn’t get a lock on him to get a blaster shot off. The robed figure fought with a staff, trying unsuccessfully to knock Din off his feet; Din blocked a few shots, and then the attacker was gone again

Din had no idea what was happening. There was almost no time to think, the attacks came so fast, but at the same time it didn’t feel like they were really in danger. It was almost as if their assailant didn’t really want to hurt them. They were already tired, and this was rapidly wearing them down. He moved toward the carrier to see the kid awake again, watching with interest but not concern.

Din followed the kid’s gaze to see Cara sparring with the robed figure. The attacker was small, dancing out of the way of Cara’s kicks and punches but rarely landing blows. Din could tell Cara was tired, but finally the figure zigged when they should have zagged and she laid them out on the ground. The kid reached out toward where the attacker lay and abruptly the staff flew toward them. Din snatched it out of the air as they approached.

The figure’s head whipped around, following the staff, causing the hood to fall back to reveal the face of a young girl. She seemed far too young to have given them that much trouble. She struggled futilely under Cara’s foot as she stared at Din and the kid, completely agog.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” he demanded, looming over the small figure.

“I might ask you the same thing!” she spat back defiantly.

“You attacked _us_ ,” Cara replied, rolling her eyes.

The girl looked back and forth between them, her eyes still wide, as if this statement was news to her. “What is that thing?” she asked, pointing at the kid.

“He’s not a _thing_ ,” Din glowered, “and we’re not telling you anything until you explain yourself.”

“You were at the sacred temple,” she answered weakly. “You took something.”

“What’s it to you?” Cara demanded.

The girl sighed and closed her eyes, looking suddenly chagrined. “Can I get up? I promise I won’t do anything.”

Cara looked up at Din and he shrugged. She was just a kid, after all. Cara withdrew her foot with a scowl for good measure and the girl scrambled to her feet, trying unsuccessfully to brush the dust off her dark robes.

“What’s your name, kid?” Cara asked.

“Nyka.” Now that she was standing, she looked even younger. Her large blue eyes seemed full of innocence, completely at odds with her fighting skill. “I’ve been watching you since you got here.”

“Why?”

Nyka looked down at the kid. “You brought a disturbance in the Force with you.”

Cara shot a glance at Din, her eyebrows saying volumes. “Are you a Jedi?”  
  
“No,” the girl answered. Din felt a weird mix of relief and disappointment before she continued. “I’m only a padawan.”

“What does that mean?”

Nyka looked surprised. “Aren’t you a Force user? Isn’t that a lightsaber?” She looked pointedly at the saber handle clipped to Din’s belt.

“It’s a long story, but I’m not,” Din answered.

“Oh,” she replied, looking even more confused. “Well, I’m in training to become a Jedi.”

“There’s a Jedi school on this planet?” Cara asked. Din could hear the tension in her voice and felt it acutely inside him.

“No, it’s nearby, but hidden.”

“And Luke Skywalker? Is he there? Can you take us?”

Nyka’s eyes widened and she looked aghast. “Oh no, definitely not. Outsiders are not allowed.”

“Look, we’ve traveled to every corner of this galaxy, looking for any trace of the Jedi,” Din explained wearily. “I have a sworn mission to find them, to learn about my foundling. We don’t know where he came from, but we were told that Skywalker would.”

The girl did not appear convinced. “What would Master Skywalker know about him?”

“That’s what we want to know,” Cara sighed in exhasperation. “The kid can use that Force… thing, so that makes him one of you, right? A Jedi?”  
  
“Not exactly…”

“Maybe you can contact Skywalker,” Din suggested, trying a different tack. “He can come here if he doesn’t want us to come there.”

“Come on,” Cara added, “you owe us something for that little display. I’m freaking exhausted now.”

Nyka looked at them again, and down at the kid. “Ok, I’ll contact him. I can come to your ship when I hear…?”

Din’s blood ran cold. If she knew where they had landed, there was a chance she’d seen them out there, and a chance she’d seen him without his helmet. “Have you been watching us there?” he asked darkly.

“No!” she said quickly, seeming to sense his distress. “I followed you back there the first day, but I didn't stay. I haven’t been back since.”

He stared at her for a long moment, trying to decide if he could trust her. Something told him she was being truthful, though. He nodded and she exhaled a sigh of relief.

“Ok,” he agreed. “We will come after you if you don’t come back.”

“And don’t think we won’t find you,” Cara added. “He’s the best bounty hunter in the galaxy.”

Nyka’s eyes widened again. “I promise, I’ll help. Sorry for attacking you before. There are some who seek to destroy the Jedi, and you were poking around the temple…”

“I understand,” Din replied.

It was odd, hearing this about a group of people who he’d always been told were enemies. Their situation didn’t seem that different to that of the Mandalorians, to be honest. What would he find, when he finally encountered these Jedi? He had a feeling it was nothing that he would expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIg things are coming!
> 
> I love love reading all your comments, particularly hearing that you're still enjoying this beheamoth. I'm so glad you all loved the marriage and helmet removal scenes as much as I did. Thank you so much!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated it itsjustafeys, who really wanted a honeymoon chapter. 😉

“You think she’ll actually follow through?” Cara asked as she unbuckled her armor and sent it flying into a corner of the storage compartment that held their gear.

She watched out of the corner of her eye as Din pulled off one of his vambraces and set it carefully on the shelf. They were alike in so many ways, but care of armor was not one of them. At first it had astounded him, but he’d long since given up trying to get her to hang her things. She quickly peeled off the rest of it, only taking her time to carefully place her weapons in their designated homes in the cabinet.

Standing just inside the door of the compartment, Din pulled off his helmet and placed it next to the vambraces. She had to remind herself not to look away, that she was allowed to see his face now. It hardly seemed real. She felt herself staring at his profile, frozen in place with her pants half off. Shaking her head slightly, she finished kicking them off.

“I do,” he answered, turning to her.

She blinked, trying to remember what he was replying to. Oh yes, she’d asked a question. She could hardly focus on anything with those dark, soulful eyes staring into hers. Her husband’s eyes. Unconciously she reached up to touch the mythosaur pendant that hung under her tank top. Definitely none of this could be real.

“Probably won’t see her until tomorrow, though,” he said, interrupting her reverie.

Cara smiled at him almost predatorily. “I should hope not.”

She had stripped down to nothing more than her panties and tank top in the time it had taken him to remove less than half of his armor, which was typical. She sauntered toward him and trailed her hands lightly over the plates still in place. Her fingers deftly worked on the remaining buckles, and when she removed each piece she placed them on their hooks with all the reverence that she didn’t show her own armor.

When they finished he turned to face her in the small space wearing only his light underclothes. Closing the already small gap between them, she pressed her body against his suggestively and grinned as he exhaled heavily.

“The kid…” he objected quietly, but she shook her head.

“… is totally sacked out. Too much excitement for him today. He’ll be out ’til morning.”

She reached up to cradle his face in both her hands, knowing that she was staring intensely at him but unable to stop. Her eyes searched over his features, drinking them in like a blind woman who could suddenly see again.

“I hope this isn’t too weird for you,” she breathed as she traced her thumbs over his cheeks.  
  
“It’s kinda weird,” he replied with a soft laugh. “But nice. Don’t stop.”

“Good, because I can’t.”

“Not even for a kiss?”  
  
Cara gave a soft snort. “I’m not closing my eyes during a kiss ever again.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” he said, grinning. The mischevious look on his face was somehow both the same and different from how she’d pictured it before.

“You wanna try to make me?”

He leaned in and place his lips next to her ear. “Yeah, I do.”

A soft moan escaped her throat at the feeling of his warm breath on her skin. Suddenly even her minimal clothes seemed like too much. She pulled his face back in front of hers and kissed him hungrily, their lips and tongues engaged in a practiced give and take. True to her word she kept her eyes open, and the sight of him kissing her was almost to much to take. Although his eyes had been closed at the beginning, he opened them partway through and stared into hers, and she had to pull away, suddenly unable to breathe.

“That’s not fair,” she accused, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.

He grinned wickedly. “You could aways close your eyes…”

“Not gonna happen.”

They crashed together again, mouths seeking each other desperately and hands wandering. His eyes challenged her again and this time she stared back, feeling the tension growing deep in her gut. She slipped a hand inside his pants to curl around him and he shuddered, eyelids fluttering.

“Now who’s not being fair?” he huffed.

She just chuckled into his neck as she kissed her way down to his collarbone, sucking a bruise over the bone. She withdrew her hand from his pants and pushed both under his shirt, sliding her hands over his skin as she lifted it up. She broke away only for a moment to peel it off, then returned her lips to his shoulder again.

“Maybe we should move somewhere a bit more comfortable,” he suggested, groaning under her ministrations.

He had a point. She captured his lips with hers briefly again, her tongue licking around the inside of his mouth in promise, then turned on her heel and pulled him eagerly toward their bedroom. When they had closed the door behind them she made to push him down onto the bed but he grabbed hold of her and somehow managed to reverse their positions. She landed on her back and he straddled her hips, pushing her down into the pillows.

Normally she would have fought this turn of events, regaining the upper hand at all costs, but the way he was looking at her stopped her in her tracks. He slipped his hands under her tank top and peeled it over her head, then inhaled sharply at the sight. She knew why: the mythosaur pendant he’d given her the previous night hung nestled just below her bare breasts. He hadn’t seen her put it on that morning, so he didn’t know she’d been wearing it that day. She grinned broadly at his look of amazement.

“You know you don’t actually have to wear this all the time,” he murmured, unable to take his eyes off the pendant. He reached up and traced his finger delicately along its edge.

“I know,” she replied softly. “Today felt special, though. Our first day as husband and wife.”

He looked up at her then, his eyes wide and shining with tears. The sight made her breath catch in her throat, and she pulled him down into a kiss again. This time it was slow, almost reverent, and she felt emotion threatening to choke her.

He broke away before the feelings overwhelmed her, dropping his mouth to her breasts. He took one nipple in his mouth, and then the other, swirling his tongue and sucking and raking his teeth lightly over them. Then he moved around her breasts, trailing his tongue over the soft skin underneath them before he ended up at the pendant, kissing it and her skin reverently.

Before she could find any words he was already on the move again, kissing his way across her flat stomach toward the neat mound of hair between her legs. He slid his way down her legs and pushed her thighs apart, brushing a hand lightly across the crotch of her panties as he did. She was soaked already and she moaned throatily, her hips bucking of their own accord.

As he kissed the inside of her thigh, making his way upward, he hooked his fingers through the sides of her panties and slid them down. He paused to peel them off then spread her thighs even further. She felt his thumbs press her nether lips apart, then the slow, languid movement of his tongue on her. Her eyes rolled back in her head and the sensation and she wound her fingers through his hair, encouraging him to provide the friction she so desperately desired. He would not be rushed, though. He moved slowly and methodically, as he always did, building the sweet tension inside her as only he could.

This time, for the first time, she watched his face buried between her legs. The look of concentration on his face would have been almost comical had it not been accompanied by movements that sent white hot darts of pleasure shooting up her spine. Despite hisleisurely pace, she could feel herself headed toward her climax faster than usual, and when he looked up at her and they locked eyes she almost lost it completely.

She pushed his head into her more forcefully, the friction of his beard providing the lastjolt she needed. Stars burst in her vision and she cried out as she rode wave after wave of her orgasm. She hadn't even realized that she’d closed her eyes until she opened them to see him leaning over her, grinning.

“Thought you weren’t going to close your eyes,” he teased.

She exhaled heavily, her brain still not working properly. “I said when I’m kissing you. Didn’t make any promises about you kissing me.”

“I’m not sure that’s true,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss her before she could reply.

She groaned as she tasted the salty tang of herself on his lips and all but surrendered. Still, she watched him through hooded lids, unable to get enough of his face. She supposed that some day it would be old hat, that she would be used to seeing him, but today was not that day.

The pleasant weight of his body on hers, and the insistency of his erection pressing into her thigh, brought her back to the present. Grinning, she pushed him over onto his back and sat on his stomach, feeling the wetness of her juices and his saliva smear on his skin. He groaned, sliding his hands up her thighs and around her waist. She pushed her hips backward until his erection strained against her ass and leaned down to kiss him briefly.

Her mouth was on the move, though, kissing down across his smooth chest and stomach, inching ever closer to his tented pants. When she finally pulled them down and set him free he sighed heavily. Pushing his pants the rest of the way off, she returned to his swollen member, wrapping her hand around the shaft and kissing him lightly on the tip. His sharp inhalation made her grin.

She made sure to position herself this time so that she could look up and see his face as she worked. Taking him in her mouth, she swirled her tongue around the tip and tasted the salty fluid leaking from him. Then she withdrew and ran the tip of her tongue along the lower edge of his shaft and up to tease the tip again. The look on his face was breathtaking. He was watching her work intently, his face a mask of lust and need and love. The idea that he had always looked at her like this and she’d never known made her head swim.

His shaft twitched in her mouth and he stopped her abruptly. Now his eyes were squeezed shut in what she guessed was an impressive show of will. “Cara… I want… need you…”

She let him go and he hissed at the cool air on his hot, wet skin. Climbing back on top of him, she moved to lower herself onto his shaft but he stopped her. He rolled them smoothly over and she lifted her legs to wrap around his hips, pulling him toward her. Their eyes locked as he pushed into her and a wave of emotion came crashing down on her. She felt tears spring to her eyes and tried to squeeze them away.

“Hey, are you ok?” he asked softly, stilling inside her. He reached up and rubbed a tear from the side of her eye with his thumb.

She opened her eyes again to see him looking at her with love and concern so intense she nearly lost it again. “I’m fine,” she managed. “Better than fine. It’s just… I love you so much, Din.” Then something that was half a laugh, half a sob erupted from her throat and she looked away again, fairly disgusted with herself. “Bet you never thought I’d be one of those girls that cried during sex.”

He smiled softly at her and leaned down to kiss away the tears on her cheeks. “You don’t even know how many times I’ve cried while making love to you,” he whispered next to her ear.

“You have not,” she gasped.

When he pulled his head back he was grinning, but the crinkles at the sides of his eyes were distinctly damp. She looked at him with surprise and amazement and another surge of love. Her emotions were running so close to the surface she couldn’t control them, so she opted instead to pull him down into a kiss.

That seemed to break the spell. He began moving inside her, thrusting in long, smooth motions. She angled her hips upward, allowing him to get as deep as possible at the bottom of every push. Colors began flashing in her vision again as he pressed all the right places inside her, and she thrust back against him to gain increased friction. What had started slow was going quicker and quicker now. Every time she thought he couldn’t possibly thrust any harder he proved her wrong until she could barely see even though her eyes were open.

She knew he was waiting for her, could see him biting his lip in concentration as he tried desperately to hold on. Grabbing one of his hands she guided it down between them and he thumbed her clit with just the right amount of pressure. She cried out as she came, feeling her walls spasming around him, and in a few more quick strokes he hit his own climax, crying her name.

She watched the pleasure contort his face, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth hanging open as he continued to twitch inside her, hips bucking slightly. She thought it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen in her life. By the time he opened his eyes to look down at her she was crying again, not even trying to stop it this time.

“Thank you,” she rasped, her voice thick with emotion.

“For what?” he asked. He was still propped up on his arms on either side of her head, looking at her with concern again.

Cara reached up and cupped his face in one hand. “For sharing that with me.”

Din exhaled heavily and dropped his head to contact hers. “How can I share what I’ve already surrendered? Every part of me is yours, Cara Dune.”

She slipped a hand behind his neck and pulled him into a kiss again, tasting the mix of their salty tears on her lips. As he slid to the side and settled against her with his head cradled on her shoulder, she found herself lost in the moment. She pushed a curly lock of hair off his forehead and placed a soft kiss on the top of his head.

Never in a million standard years would she have thought she would have ended up here: married to a Mandalorian, mother to a strange alien child, but most of all, with this much love around her and within her heart. It was almost painful, it was so perfect. Soon they would meet the Jedi, after all this time searching, and her little family could be torn apart. The kid had brought them together; could their relationship survive if he was taken from them? She’d like to think so, but she knew losing the kid would destroy Din.

She made a silent promise then, to whoever was listening. She would be damned if anything or anyone would take their son away, and if they tried they would have to answer to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More feels! I couldn't help it. I hadn't originally intended this to get this emotional, but these two had other ideas.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and I'd love to know what you thought. ❤️❤️


	20. Chapter 20

How could a morning be so tense and so normal at the same time? Din was filled with nervous energy at the thought that they might meet the person they’d spent months looking for, and that person would, what? The best outcome is that he would tell them about their strange child and that would be the end of it. The worst is that he would magically produce the kid’s biological family and they would be forced to surrender him. If it came down to the latter, he didn’t know if he had it in him. But did he have it in him to be the person who denied the kid the life he’d never had? Probably not.

After Cara had snapped at him for pacing he’d left the ship to take a long walk. There was no settlements for kilometers around them, and the day was breezy and pleasant. He discovered a sizeable creek with a waterfall and a pool nearby, and made a mental note that they could fill the non-potable water there instead of paying the exorbitant prices in town.

By the time he’d turned to head back to the ship it was nearly midday. During his walk he’d watched the sky over where the Razor Crest lay and saw no incoming ships, and he supposed that anyone coming to visit would approach them directly. Still, there was always the possibility that they could walk from town, and the thought made him pick up his pace.

Cara was outside when he returned, watching the kid play with some of his toys in the grass. She turned at his approach even though the grass muffled his footsteps. She smiled at him, her hair blowing in the light breeze as she reclined on the ground, and he was struck by what a domestic picture they made. Sure, she was wearing her armor, but other than that he could visualize this scene taking place outside a small house and not the ship.

“You walk off some of that nervous energy?” she asked as he stopped next to them.

He shrugged. “Some,” he allowed. “How are you doing?”

“You know,” she answered, her voice melancholy. He did.

“No sign of the Jedi?”

“Nope. Maybe they won’t come today.”

Din blew out a heavy sigh. “They better. I don’t think I can take another day of this uncertainty.”

“Join us?” she suggested, patting the ground next to her.

“I should check the ship’s sensors, just in case.”

He took no more than two steps toward the ship’s open ramp when the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Behind him, the kid whined, an odd sound he didn’t think he’d ever heard before. Din turned to see Cara scrambling to her feet and grabbing the kid, holding him protectively in her arms. Moments later a small shuttle craft appeared in the sky above them, heading unmistakably toward their position.

He felt all his muscles tense in anticipation, as if it were Moff Gideon risen from the dead that would be getting off that shuttle. His hand shifted to rest on his blaster and as the shuttle landed he stepped between it and his family, blocking view of the kid.

With a soft hiss the door to the shuttle opened and a short ramp extended to the ground. After a moment a figure exited the shuttle dressed in long pale robes covered by a brown cloak. A simple leather belt circled his waist and on it was clipped what Din could only surmise was the handle of a lightsaber.

He approached them with a mild look on his face, unaware or unconcerned by their hostile postures. As he got closer the thing that surprised Din the most was how young he was. His sandy blond hair framed his youthful face in shaggy waves. This guy was a Jedi master? Possibly the last one?

“I was told that a Mandalorian and a Rebel shocktrooper were looking for me,” he announced when he stopped in front of them. “I have to say that is not a sentence I ever thought I would utter.”

“ _Ex_ -rebel shocktrooper,” Cara corrected.

“Are you Skywalker?” Din asked, before they could get derailed.

“I am,” the Jedi confirmed, looking back at Din. He stuck out his hand. “Luke.”

Din hesitated for a moment before he grasped the other man’s hand. “You can call me Mando. This is my wife, Cara.”

Luke looked behind Din to where Cara was still standing and inclined his head at her. “So, care to explain the summons? Nyka said that you had a Force-sensitive child in your care, but she declined to say much more. I have to say I sensed him when you entered the system, though I didn’t know who or what he was. His connection to the Force must be very strong.”

“We’ve been searching the galaxy for the Jedi and for answers about a child I took as my foundling,” Din said cautiously. “I was tasked with reuniting him with his people if that is possible, but I’ve never seen anything like him in this galaxy.”

Luke stared at him expectantly, and Din turned his head and nodded to Cara. Her face was set in reluctant lines, but she stepped out from behind him holding the kid, who stared with interest at the Jedi and cooed softly. Luke, for his part, looked like he’d seen a ghost. His eyes were wide and his lips parted slightly in an expression of shock.

“I have,” he whispered, so soft Din barely heard him.

“What?”

Luke swallowed hard and looked back at the Mandalorian. “I’ve seen one like him before. Years ago.” The Jedi stared at the kid, and when he spoke his voice was distant, as if he were lost in thought. “His name was Yoda. He lived on Dagoba and was a great Jedi Master.”

“We’ve been to Dagoba,” Cara told him suspiciously, holding the kid tighter to her chest. “We didn’t find anyone.”

“He’s been dead for years now,” Luke said hollowly. When he looked back up at them he was pale. “I’m sorry, can we sit somewhere?”

Din nodded and gestured to a series of boxes and chairs they’d dragged from the Razor Crest for this purpose. He’d decided he didn’t want to be an enclosed space with this guy, just in case. Nyka appeared suddenly at Luke’s arm; Din hadn’t even realized she’d been present.

“Do you need assistance, Master Skywalker?” she asked, concern obvious in her voice.

Luke waved her off. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”

She retreated a step but still hovered as he walked over to the seats and took one. Din considered remaining standing for a moment before he took a seat, positioning himself between the Jedi and Cara.

“Please,” Luke said when they had settled themselves, “you have to tell me everything you know. Where did you find him? How did he come to be in your care?”

Din took a deep breath. “Some months ago I collected a bounty on Arvala-7 in the employ of the Imperial remnants, specifically a man named Moff Gideon, though I didn’t know his identity at the time. When I arrived I found that the bounty was a child. Initially I turned him over to the Imps and collected my bounty, but I couldn’t get him out of my head. I returned to rescue him.”

There was so much more, of course, but Din had neither the time nor inclination to expound upon those months. He went silent and stared at Luke, waiting for him to process this information.

“And Moff Gideon? The Imperial who was looking for him?”

“He’s dead,” Din replied firmly.

“Good,” Luke said, nodding. He looked from Din to Cara to the kid and back again. “Well, I’m sorry to tell you that I don’t know much about this species and it’s origins. I knew one, Yoda, and I know that another individual was also a member of the Jedi High Council many years ago. Beyond that they are a mystery, one I think Yoda was happy to cultivate. I’m not surprised that this little one is so connected to the Force. How old is he?”  
  
“I was told he was fifty years old,” Din answered.

Luke’s eyebrows shot up but he nodded. “I guess that makes sense. Yoda was at least 900 when he died.”

Din choked on nothing. “I’m sorry, did you say _900_?” He had either figured that the kid would stay this age forever or outlive him by a long shot, but that was beyond his imagination.

“Yeah. I’ve read that he was a Jedi Master by 100, so I guess this little guy will do a lot of growing up in the next fifty years.”

The kid giggled at this, as if he had understood the conversation. Maybe he did.

“Does he speak?” Luke asked.

Cara shook her head. “No, but I think he understands a lot more than it might seem.”

“Interesting.” Luke put a hand to his chin, apparently deep in thought.

Din watched him, wondering what was going through his head. Even though they knew far more about the kid’s kind than they had before, it was still next to nothing. Now came the question: did this Jedi have any claim to a child that he’d never known existed? Din thought not. But what if the kid needed to grow up around other Force-sensitive people?

As if he’d been reading Din’s thoughts, Luke looked up at him, apparently having come to a decision. “We’re not really set up for it right now, but we could take him into the school if you’re looking for someone to take him off your hands…”

“NO!” Din and Cara shouted in unison. Din jumped to his feet without thinking.

Luke looked taken aback by this reaction. He put his hands up and leaned backward slightly. “Ok, hey, I was just… you said you were trying to reunite him with his people, so I thought maybe you weren’t interested in raising him.”

“Sorry,” Din said, sighing. He lowered himself back into his seat, resting the forehead of his helmet on one hand. “The creed of my people says that foundlings are to be treated as your own child until they can be reunited with their own people or they come of age. From what you say, it sounds like both are unlikely to happen any time soon. I suppose an argument could be made that the Jedi are his people now, and we want what’s best for him, but… _he is our son._ Only in the presence of the kid’s own parents could I consider parting with him.”

The Jedi had listened to this speech with interest and when Din had finished, he nodded. “Look, the best thing for the kid is that he grows up in a loving home. That, I know. We could provide some semblance of that at the school, but it wouldn’t be the same. He’s too young to even think of undertaking the training, even if I was ready to take on younglings. Which I’m not. I’ve only just started this school in the last couple of years. I’ll be the first to admit I barely know what I’m doing.”

Din felt relief wash through him. At least it seemed that the Jedi would not insist on taking the kid. Was that it, then? With quite literally zero leads, the path to finding the kid’s people seemed nigh impossible. He couldn’t relax, though; it all had seemed too easy, after such a long and arduous road to get here.

“What about his… powers?” Cara asked hesitantly. “The Force? I assume he needs to be taught how to use it. We hardly know what it is.”

“How much does he use the Force? And for what?”

Cara and Din glanced at each other, unsure of how much to say. “Day-to-day, not frequently,” she replied.

“Mostly he’s used it to protect us,” Din added vaguely. “When he senses we’re in danger.”

Luke’s face was full of consternation at this statement. “Like, what?”

“Well, not long after I first collected him, he lifted a mudhorn off the ground to prevent it from killing me,” Din explained.

“A _mudhorn_?” Luke replied, clearly surprised. His eyes unmistakably flicked down to the mudhorn signet on Din’s shoulder. “How far off the ground?”

Din felt suddenly uncomfortable. Perhaps this was not the best example to have used. “Not far. It’s feet just barely did not touch the ground.”

“ _Wow_ ,” Luke breathed out, slumping down into thought again.

Din looked at Cara, whose brows were knit into an expression of worry. Unspoken words passed between them. Sure, they had thought the kid’s antics were impressive, but if the _Jedi_ did too, what then?

“There’s something you should know about the Force,” he said eventually, looking closely at them. “There are two sides of this power, like the sides of a coin. The Jedi are aligned with the light side. We use the Force for knowledge and defense, never for our own gain. The dark side, though… it is easy, seductive, and far more dangerous. It is my own belief that a child raised in a loving home would be less tempted by the dark side, but not all of the masters who came before me would agree. The fact is that anyone can be drawn in, under the wrong circumstances.”

“You’re afraid that he’ll get… tempted by this dark side?” Cara asked, her arms tightening around the kid.

The kid cooed, looking just as innocent as he possibly could. Din understood, though, much as he didn’t want to admit it. Nothing had happened like it since, but he would always remember that day when the kid had decided that _Cara_ was a threat and tried to choke her. The expression on his tiny face had been disconcerting, to say the least.

“It’s possible, especially when the Force comes this easily to someone,” Luke explained. “Like giving a blaster to a toddler, but… worse.”

This was, when it came down to it, one of Din’s greatest fears: what if they were simply unequipped to raise a child like this, despite how much love they could give him? What if it wasn’t enough?

“How do we stop it?” Din asked, his heart heavy.

“Any Jedi could recognize the signs, even in one this young. But… there aren’t many of us around anymore, as you know. Do you live near this system?”

Cara and Din looked at each other again. “Not exactly,” Din said awkwardly. He gestured to the ship behind them. “The Razor Crest is our home.”

“Oh,” Luke answered, glancing between them. “Well, he is still very young. For his kind, I mean. Perhaps I could instruct you on some of the signs, so that if you notice anything you could return here and we could work with him. It may be many more years before he requires more, ah, _focused_ instruction.”

“How long would that take? Teaching us what to look for,” Cara asked.

Luke shrugged. “Not that long, I guess. You could come to the academy for a few days. We’d be happy to host you.”

“Do you mind if we discuss this in private for a moment?” Din asked.

“By all means.”

Cara and Din stood up and walked back toward the ship, out of earshot of the Jedi. He could see she was wound tight by the discussion and he slid his hand into hers, curling his fingers around her hand. She squeezed his hand tight in return.

“Is this a good idea?” she whispered. “Can we trust him?”

Din sighed. “Do we have a choice? He knows about the kid’s powers. And if we can learn the signs of this ‘dark side,’ then we can stay together for longer. As a family.”  
  
Cara nodded and looked down at the kid in her arms, brushing a hand over his head. “If you think this is best, I trust you.”

“My gut says that we can trust him. Maybe I’m wrong, but…”

She reached forward and splayed her fingers out across the plate covering his stomach, her lips twisting into a wry smile. “I’ve learned to always trust this gut.”

He slide on hand behind her neck and brought her head down to meet his helmet, the kid sandwiched between him, not caring if Skywalker was watching them. The kid burbled as if he, too, approved. After a moment they broke apart and walked back over to were the Jedi sat, waiting.

“We’ll come,” Din announced. “We want to learn whatever we can to help our child.”  
  
Luke stood, smiling at them. “Great. We can go now, if you’re ready? It’s not far.”

They glanced at each other, then Din nodded. “Lead the way.”

* * *

The school was smaller than expected, tucked away on an otherwise uninhabited moon in the same system. In fact a scan of the area on approach showed no life forms at all until the shuttle in front of them did _something_ and suddenly the school appeared on the monitor. They landed near a small cluster of rustic buildings, and when the ramp of the Razor Crest descended they could see a dozen or so people bustling around the area. Some were working a garden, some were training together in a small class.

Skywalker and Nyka led them into the village and without any obvious signals everyone stopped what they were doing and came running out toward them. Din and Cara stopped short, glancing at each other with unmistakable trepidition. Both knew that they had the advantage in most fights, but the Jedi were an unknown opponent. If all of these people had the same powers as the kid, how did you stand against them?

The students—Cara assumed that they were all students, since they wore the same dark robes as Nyka—all lined up in front of them, clearly looking for approval from their master. Skywalker nodded at them as he walked down the line. They were quite the unusual group, ranging in age from maybe ten to twenty years old and representing a diversity of races and species.

“We have some visitors for a few days,” Luke announced. “I will be asking those of you who are far along in your training to assist me. Please return to your tasks for the today.”

The students all scattered back to their previous tasks then, leaving them with the Jedi. He smiled at them as he approached, quite clearly sensing their uncertainty and trying to allay it.

“I’ve been thinking,” he prefaced when he stopped in front of them. “I could try to work with your child a bit while you’re here. Get him started with some basic stuff.”

Cara glanced at Din out of the corner of her eye. “What about the talking issue?”

“If he understands as much as you say, it could be relatively easy. And I might be able to reach him using the Force,” Luke replied somewhat cryptically. “Only if you’re ok with it, of course.”

_Trust your gut_ , Cara thought, staring right through Din’s visor. He nodded slightly at her as if he understood. “Whatever you think will help him,” he agreed.

“Great! Can I show you to a guest cabin?”

“Thanks, but we’ll stay on the ship,” Cara answered. There was only so far she was willing to go here.

“Of course, whatever you’re comfortable with. Perhaps you’d like to sit in on my first session with… sorry, I don’t know what his name is?” Luke furrowed his brow and looked at the kid on the ground between them.

“We… don’t either,” Cara said awkwardly.

Clearly the Jedi was not expecting this answer. “Oh! Well, I could ask him…?”

After all this time, this was not something that they ever thought could happen. That they might find someone who knew, maybe. That they would never know his original name, probably. That they would be able to simply ask him? Impossible. Din nodded at the Jedi in response.

Luke half turned and gestured for them to follow him. “Let’s find someplace more comfortable, yeah?”

That place turned out to be a small building that appeared to be some kind of training space. Cushioned mats covered the floor and simple benches lined the walls. Luke stopped just off the center of the room and folded his legs below him, sinking to the mat. The kid toddled toward him readily, smiling broadly. Cara knew how much the kid loved it when someone got down on his level.

Cara and Din took a seat on a bench nearby and watched as Luke extended a hand toward the kid. The kid placed his tiny hand in the Jedi’s and stared up at him. He stared back, seemingly making some connection with the kid. What that was, they had no idea. Cara watched Din out of the corner of her eye, seeing the tension in his shoulders, but though he was clearly keyed up he didn’t seem that worried.

“He wants you to know that he knows you love him very much,” Luke said suddenly, his voice sounding far away.

Cara raised her hand to her mouth unconciously in surprise and saw Din straighten slightly beside her. Was this real? Was Luke really conversing with the kid, or was he playing them, telling them what he thought they wanted to hear? She had no idea what to make of it.

“He thanks you for saving him and giving him this family. He doesn’t know where he came from. You should know that at the temple on Lothal… he spoke with… Master Yoda,” Luke recited, his own eyes going wide with shock.

They could see him wrestle with this information, apparently trying to control his own reaction to this information. There was no way that the Jedi could know about their time on Lothal except from the kid himself. The kid had spent a lot of time on his own in that ruin. Could this be really true? Cara scarcely wanted to allow herself to believe.

“Yoda told him that he would never find his people, and that you were his parents. He… wants to stay with you always.”

Not for the first time, Cara was jealous of Din’s helmet. She could tell this information was affecting him as it affected her, but she had nothing to hide the tears welling in the corners of her eyes.

If Luke noticed, he didn’t show it. He appeared to be in some kind of trance, focusing entirely on the kid before him. “He doesn’t really know what his name is. He has a faint memory of someone calling him… Yamo?” At that Luke seemed to snap out of his trance, blinking rapidly as he looked to Cara and Din. “But he says that he doesn’t care if you want to name him something else.”

“You got… all that… from him?” Cara choked out hesitantly.

Luke’s face lit up in a broad grin. “You have quite the kid here,” he answered, nodding. “I think we can get a lot done in a few days. But it’s getting late. I’ll let you guys have some family time.” He turned back toward the kid and rubbed his head affectionately. “Thank you for that. We have a lot to talk about.”

When the Jedi rose they did as well, walking forward to collect the kid. Luke’s words rang in Cara’s head. This, after all, was why they needed to find the Jedi. These were not the answers they were expecting, but they were the answers that they needed to hear. They could stop looking for the kid’s family because they _were_ the kid’s family. She had so many more questions now, but one thing was for sure: in the end it didn’t look like she’d need to bust any heads to keep her family together. And as much as she liked a good fight, that, ultimately, was a relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... don't know how I feel about this chapter. I couldn't even bring myself to reread the second half of it. There are parts I like and parts I'm not really satisfied with. I have no idea how to write Luke. Specifically somewhere between hopeful idealistic young Luke and grizzled old cynical Luke. I ended up on the idealistic side of things. There is pretty much none of the EU Luke in here, just movie stuff.
> 
> Anyway, I hope that this wasn't a disappointment or anything. This isn't the end, or even that close really, there are still a lot of loose ends. Let me know what you think, and if I've gone off the deep end. ;) Love you all!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to take a moment to thank everyone who left such supportive comments on my last chapter, with a special shout-out to the people who have recently discovered the fic and read through it all in one go. I can hardly believe all that has happened when I go back and look at previous chapters, and I'm so glad people are enjoy it. Your comments make my day, but more than that they keep me going and motivated to wrestle this monster of a story. Much love to you all!

The kid seemed more clingy than usual that night when they had returned to the Razor Crest. At first Din had worried that smoething bad had happened in his session with the Jedi, but he didn’t seem upset or distressed, just… clingy.

“You’re very huggy tonight,” Cara murmured to the small creature wrapped in her arms, confirming his thoughts.

The kid burbled at her in response, a small grin visible on his face before he buried it in her shoulder. Cara laughed and rubbed his back gently. She was humming some soft melody Din could barely make out, and he was momentarily overwhelmed by the sight of his wife cuddling their child.

“So that was a thing,” she said with a heavy exhalation, looking up at him with her eyebrows raised. “What did you make of all that?”  
  
Din shrugged and sighed. “Not what I expected, that’s for sure. You?”  
  
“I didn’t know what to expect, to be honest. I didn’t think it could possibly be real, but then there were things he couldn’t know about…” She shook her head, as if still trying to come to terms with it.

“With everything we’ve seen him do, I guess it’s not that much more of a stretch.”

The kid had turned his face to look at him, smiling adorably. Without letting go of Cara, he reached one arm out toward Din as if trying to get him to come nearer. Din couldn’t help but smile back. When he approached the kid grabbed the top edge of his chest plate possessively. Din wrapped his arms around Cara, sandwiching the kid between them.

“Couldn’t wait until I got my armor off, huh?” he asked the kid, chuckling softly.

Cara smoothed a hand down over his ears. “I have a feeling someone will be sharing our bed tonight.”

“You think he’s ok?”  
  
“Just seems extra lovey-dovey to me.”

Din leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Can’t say I blame him.”

“So what do you think about his name? Yamo?”

He considered this for a moment. “You know, it sounds kind of like the Mando’a word for a homecoming. Yaim’ol. _Yaim_ means home.”

“That’s… strangely appropriate,” she said, looking thoughtful. He looked at her quizzically. “After Alderaan was… destroyed,” she continued, struggling slightly with the word, “there was this guy in my company who always went on about how home wasn’t necessarily a place, it could be a person. I always thought he was a conceited asshole and knocked him flat on his ass after I told him everyone I loved was dead. But… maybe he was actually right. We don’t have a place to call home—not yet—but we have each other. We have this kid, who brought us together. He is our home. Our little _Yaimo_.”

Din swallowed hard, trying to fight back the tears stinging his eyes. Just when he thought he had maxed out on intense emotions, something new would happen. Something like this. He hugged them both tight and kissed Cara’s head as she nestled it against his neck.

“Do you think it’s something about this system?” he whispered after a while.

“Hmmm?”

“It just seems like emotions are just more overwhelming here.”

Cara laughed into his neck, and he felt the vibrations rumble down into his chest. “I think getting married and finding out that our family would be able to stay together is enough to do that without any weird outside influence.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he agreed with a sniffle.

She pulled her head back to look at him, smirking with tears shining in her eyes. “Doesn’t help that you’re such a softie.”

Din snorted. “Speak for yourself.” But she was right. This woman, this kid. They made him soft, and he didn’t mind at all.

The kid cooed at them and Din reached up to stroke one of his ears. “What do you think? Are you a Yaimo?”

He smiled that broad grin of his, showing off little teeth, and gave a single slow nod.

“C’mon,” Cara said, bouncing him slightly. “Let’s get you to bed. It’s late, and we have another big day tomorrow.”

* * *

The next day dawned bright and clear, and full of promise. If they’d made that much progress in an afternoon, what would today bring? It was both exciting and anxiety-inducing. Din had opened the side ramp of the ship and stared out at the landscape around the ship, his hands wrapped around a cup of steaming caf.

Like Lah’mu, the moon was lush and green, but it lacked the strange black rock formations that covered the planet. The school lay out of view over the next rise, and he was reasonably certain that no one would approach the ship, so he was helmetless and enjoying the feeling of the warm breeze on his face.

He could hear the kid playing quietly in the interior of the ship, and eventually the soft padding of bare feet behind him. After a moment Cara’s arms slipped around his waist from behind and she squeezed him tight.

“Good morning,” he greeted.

“Morning,” she replied through a yawn, rubbing her face on his shoulder.

He smiled to himself. The sun rose rather early here and he’d heard sounds of activity over the school for a while now, but as usual Cara rose when she rose. “You ready for today?”

“Not really.”

Turning in her grasp, Din wrapped his free arm around her and hugged her back. When she looked up at him he pushed her hair back from her face and kissed her softly.

“What do you think they’ll have us doing today?” she asked as she leaned her head against his.

“I guess learning about the Dark Side,” he answered with a shrug.

“Sounds like fun.”

They fell into silence again, standing there wrapped in each others arms, staring out at the morning. He wondered what she was thinking; she seemed unusually pensive that morning, more than could even be explained by everything they had learned the previous day. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the skin of her brow just barely wrinkled.

“Din?” she said finally, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“What’s next?”

_Ah_. He didn’t have to ask what she meant. The same thought had kept him up most of the night. They’d had one thing that kept them going, gave them purpose, and that was gone now. For so long his life had been solitary, one job after the next, but now he had a _family_. That was a life he didn’t know how to live. He had a feeling that Cara was similarly conflicted.

“I don’t know,” he answered, trying—and failing—to suppress a sigh.

“Do we find some place quiet to settle down? Be like normal people? I don’t even know how to do anything that doesn’t involve beating someone up.” There was a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth, but he knew her worries were real.

He squeezed her tighter and kissed her on the side of the head. “I don’t know,” he repeated, “but we’ll figure it out together. One step at a time.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “One step at a time.”

With a soft coo, Yaimo came toddling out to where they stood. He looked up at them expectantly, as if wondering what they’d be doing today. Cara disentangled herself from Din and reached down to pick up the kid, balancing him on her hip.

“First step is making sure we know how to keep this one out of trouble,” Din said with a smile, running one hand down a long ear.

Cara bounced the kid on her hip. “What’s up, Mo? You ready for today?”  
  
“Mo?”

She shrugged. “Why not?”

“He’s had a name for less than a day and you’re already shortening it?” he laughed.  
  
“You’re just jealous your name’s too short to get a nickname.”

Din cocked an eyebrow at her. “I _have_ a nickname.”

“What? Mando? That’s not a nickname, that’s like a code name or something,” she shot back, grinning. She turned her attention back to the kid in her arms. “What do you think? You like Mo for short?”

Yaimo tipped his head at her and grinned, then burbled in response.

“See?” Cara announced triumphantly. “He likes it.”

“He likes everything right now.”

“Well then it’s a good time to go get ready for the day.”

With that she turned and walked back into the ship, leaving Din to sip his caf and reflect on his little family. One step at a time.

* * *

Cara had never been one for school when she was a kid, so the idea of _lessons_ held little appeal to her. But she had to admit that she didn’t know anything about raising a kid, and less about the Force, so perhaps she could suck it up for a few days and try to pay attention. They surely weren’t making it easy, though. It was a beautiful day and they sat cross-legged on the grass as Skywalker droned on about the fundamental tenets of the Jedi and the light side of the Force. She stole a glance at Din, sitting beside her. Did his head just nod ever so slightly? Was he dozing off under there? She suppressed a smile.

She was _trying_ to listen, honestly, but she kept getting distracted by a group nearby running drills with staffs. It was just—ugh, most of them had atrocious form, and why wasn’t the instructor saying anything about it? Cara tried to close her eyes to ignore them but that was a mistake, too: the minute she did so she felt exhaustion sink in. The past few days had been exciting but oh so draining.

“Why don’t we take a break,” she heard Skywalker say, with the barest hint of amusement in his voice.

Her eyes flew open and she looked at Din, who was also sitting up much straighter than normal. Between them, Mo was socked out on the ground, snoring quietly. She looked guiltily at the Jedi before them, but he only smiled at them and rose easily from his sitting position.

“I’ll brew up some caf,” he offered, and before they could reply he’d gone.

“How long have you been asleep?” she asked Din, smirking at him.

The Mandalorian crossed his arms defensively in front of him. “Who said I was?” he shot back, but when she cocked an eyebrow his shoulders fell slightly. “Not that long.”

“Hopefully one of us is absorbing some of this.”

He tapped the side of his helmet. “I’m recording it.”

“Oh good, now we’ll have a guaranteed sleep aid,” Cara laughed. Pushing off the ground, she stood and stretched. “Screw the caf, I need to move around.”

As casually as she could, she wandered over to the staff class, pretending that she was merely interested. Now they were sparring one-on-one while the rest of the class watched. A boy and a girl in their late teens, both apparently human, were the current partners. They swung wildly at each other, leaving their sides and legs and heads open at various times. Maybe this was a beginner’s class, but even so…

Eventually, Cara couldn’t take it any more. She strode purposefully into the temporary arena, causing everyone to turn to watch her.

“Sorry, but— Can I, just, make a suggestion—?” She approached the pair and took the boy’s staff, squaring up to face his partner. Taking a postion, she nodded at the girl. “Attack me.”

The girl swung the staff around as if to aim at Cara’s head, but at the last minute changed her trajectory for a gut blow. Not a bad move, but the student was moving slowly, as if afraid she’d hurt her opponent. Cara blocked the incoming staff easily and swung her own around to quickly swipe her opponent’s feet out from under her. The girl backward with a soft _oof!_ , looking surprised.

“Ok, so that was a decent try, but your stance is all wrong. You see how easy it was for me to knock you off balance?” Cara stepped forward and offered her hand to the girl on the ground. She took it gingerly and Cara lifted her to her feet. “If you stand like this—,” she demonstrated, spreading her legs apart into the proper position, “—and someone comes at you with a sweep, they can’t drop you. You try.”

The girl shot an uncertain look at her instructor, but he shrugged and nodded encouragingly. He didn’t look that much older than the rest of his charges, and Cara wondered how much combat training he’d had. Turning back to Cara, the girl copied her stance—almost. Cara reached forward to make small adjustments, then stood back and raised her staff again.

“Attack,” she prompted.

This time, when the girl attacked, Cara’s staff slammed into her leg but failed to knock her off balance. She’d have a hell of a bruise in the morning, but hey, that was learning.

“Very good!” Cara exclaimed, smiling at the girl. The student beamed at the praise. Cara turned back to the boy who’d been standing nearby and handed him his staff back. “Did you watch my sweep?” He nodded quickly. “Ok, good. Now both of you try. Get into the right stance.”  
  
The pair of students faced each other and squared off, and then Cara set about to making minute changes to their positions.

“Keep your body aligned like this,” she instructed, loud enough for the class to hear. “Don’t give your opponent a large target. On my mark, you have only two moves to get your partner off their feet. Understand?”

The kids nodded, looking uncertain but excited.

“Attack!”

There was a blur of staffs and the boy—unsurprisingly, since he’d had less practice—landed on his backside. The girl beamed.

“On your feet! Again!” Cara barked.

This time the girl wasn’t so lucky. He was ready for her, and when her attack failed she let her guard down for a moment. When she landed on the ground Cara could see her pride was hurt more than her body.

“Don’t get cocky,” Cara told the class, “that’s how you get dead. I know these are only staffs, but if you treat them like they’ll kill you, you’ll learn fast.”  
  
“Like lightsabers?” one of the other kids piped up eagerly.

Cara furrowed her brow at him. “Like what?” She’d heard that word a few times now, mostly in reference to the Darksaber, but she still didn’t really understand what they really were.

“You know, lightsabers!” another kid answered ever-so-helpfully. She held her hands out in front of her as if gripping an imaginary sword and swung, making _woom woom_ noises as she did so.  
  
“Yeah,” Cara said uncertainly, “sure.”

All at once she flashed back to that night on Lothal, to the strange weapon that had hummed as she held it in her hand, of how it had sliced through Gideon’s armor as if it were nothing. She shivered involuntarily at the memory despite the warm sun shining on them.

“Ok everyone, why don’t we all pair off and practice what Ms. Dune has taught us today?” the instructor announced, snapping Cara out of her reverie.

Suddenly she felt awkward—she hadn’t _meant_ to just take over like that. She looked over to see Din and Skywalker watching the entire thing; Din clearly had a shit-eating grin on his face under that helmet, and Skywalker looked mildly impressed.

The kids all jumped up and Cara retreated to where the Mandalorian and the Jedi stood, running a hand through her hair. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to butt in. I hope I didn’t overstep.”

“Oh no,” Luke said, waving her off, “don’t apologize. That was fantastic. Though I have to say I’m a bit embarassed. It’s been a while since I looked in on the weapons class, and it shows. I guess this is what happens when you try to run a school by yourself.”

“The kids said something about lightsabers? I don’t think I’m familiar with that weapon,” Cara said in a way she hoped sounded casual. It was half a lie, but she couldn’t help herself asking. She could feel Din staring at her.

Luke just chuckled. “I’m not surprised. Not like there’s a lot of them around anymore. And with the imperial hoarding of kyber crystals, there isn’t likely to be many more.”

He reached under his cloak and pulled out a metal cylinder. Where the Darksaber’s hilt was sharp and angular, this was round, with concentric black ridges taking up nearly half its length. With a flick of his thumb the weapon powered on and a long green blade extended out from the hilt, bathing them in an eerie green glow even in the sunlight. Then there was the hum. That sound, more than anything else, was the thing that sent another shiver went shooting down her spine.

“Wow,” she offered, forcing a smile. “Looks dangerous.”

“It will cut through near anything with ease, save perhaps your armor,” he replied, nodding at Din. He switched it off and the blade retracted, then clipped it back to his belt. “Someday, these padawans may earn their own lightsabers, assuming we can find the crystals. But, clearly, they need some more training.”

Beside her, Din sighed heavily, drawing confused looks from Skywalker. “What my wife is not telling you is that we are in possession of a similar weapon. A kind of lightsaber, I’m told, but Mandalorian.”

Luke’s eyes immediately became as large as saucers. “ _You_ have the Darksaber?”

“So you’ve heard of it,” Din replied awkwardly.

The Jedi gazed into the distance, a faraway look in his eyes. “After the Empire fell, I threw myself into the study of Jedi history and lore. I visited nearly every standing Jedi temple, and some that were not, looking for all of the information I could find before I started my own school. I read of Tarre Vizsla, the Mandalorian who was also a Jedi, and his creation of a lightsaber unlike any other. It was lost years ago, as far as the Jedi were concerned. I can’t believe… do you have it here?” he asked quickly, focusing on them again.

“Yes,” Din confirmed. “It’s on the ship now.”

“How did it come into your possession?”

Din glanced at Cara, then softly cleared his throat. “It’s a long story. An imperial name Moff Gideon had it, taken from Mandalore during the Purge. He was also hunting us…hunting the kid. We regained it when we defeated him on Lothal.”

Luke looked amazed by this information, and truth be told it still amazed Cara as well. She’d had no idea what the weapon was capable of when she picked it up on the battlefield, and she was glad of it.

“I don’t mean to overreach, but if you wanted I could teach you how to use it? I mean, I’m assuming you aren’t too familiar with lightsabers from what you’ve said…”

Cara wanted nothing to do with it, to be perfectly honest. She wasn’t a Jedi, and despite what Din said, she didn’t think she was really a Mandalorian either. She looked away, not meeting Skywalker’s eyes, but beside her she could see Din nodding.

“Yes. We are it’s keepers. We should know how to use it properly.”

“Wonderful!” Luke exclaimed, clearly thrilled by this news. “Bring it tomorrow. Now if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I’m going to talk to this class for a moment. Then we can pick up where we left off.”

With that Skywalker turned and strode over to the weapons class, all of whom looked consideraby more beat up than before Cara’s meddling. She watched him for a moment, wondering if he could sense her trepidition. Clearly, Din could.

“Hey,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You ok?”  
  
Cara turned back toward him and bent down to scoop Mo off the ground. “I’m fine. Why would I not be fine?”

“I think we should both learn how to use it if it’s going to be on the ship, don’t you?”

“I killed a man with it, I think I know how…”  
  
“You stabbed him through, yes. Most people can stab with a sword if they need to. That doesn’t mean they know how to _use_ it. I know you know that.”

She fidgeted, staring at the kid instead of her husband. For his part, Mo was watching the weapons class as Skywalker spoke to them. The Jedi’s voice wasn’t audible from where they were standing, but she wondered if he could hear what he was saying with those big ears of his.

“Cara,” Din said, trying to draw her attention. When she finally looked at him he tilted his head at her. “I don’t know what it is about it…”  
  
“He nearly killed you with it,” she blurted out. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to retain control. “I almost lost you, and every time I hear that strange hum all I can think of is that night and you just _lying_ there.”

Din reached forward and slid one hand behind her neck, pulling her into a hug. Her first instinct was to pull away—public displays of affection were certainly not her thing, even more so when she was already feeling raw—but she bit her lip at let herself be held.

“Oh Cara,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. After a moment he released her, keeping one hand on her shoulder. “I understand, I do. You don’t have to work with it if it’s too painful.”

She sighed and shook her head. “No, you’re right. I need to get over it.”

“I didn’t say that. It’s not that simple, and you know that.”

Feelings, trauma, dealing with PTSD: these were all things that Cara did not do well. Her usual response was to run away and hide, or—barring those—ignore it and try to forget. The former were not options this time, and realistically it didn’t seem like the latter would be either. Even more than that, her family deserved more.

She looked up at him, knowing for certain that his face was set in a look of concern. “How about I watch this time, and then maybe after some more time has passed you can teach me?”

Din nodded and pulled her head toward his helmet until their foreheads met. “Ok,” he said softly. “But if you’re not ok for any reason, you tell me, deal?”  
  
“Deal.”

When he pulled away again she could practically see the smirk on his face. “Ready to go learn more scintillating facts about the Jedi?”

Cara made a face. “Not really. But I will, for his sake.”

She looked down at Mo, who was still watching the other students intently. She hoped they were doing the right thing. He had a clear affinity for the others, and a way to actually communicate with Skywalker. He could learn so much here. What could two damaged warriors offer him in the face of that?

“It’s the right decision,” Din said abruptly, reading her mind so clearly that it startled her. “What we offer him is a family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The kid has a name! I can hardly believe it, and have to remember to actually use it when I'm writing. 😂


	22. Chapter 22

Din hadn’t wielded the Darksaber since that day on Mandalore when he’d been challenged for its ownership. He’d carried it on their outings on Lah’mu because it felt safer than leaving it on the ship, and anyway it seemed like the kind of weapon that was worth having on you. Still, the idea of using it regularly was a bit disconcerting. Not that he would let that on to Cara, especially given her reticence to consider using it. But he meant what he’d said: he didn’t like having weapons around that he wasn’t proficient at using.

He looked over to where Cara sat in the grass a few meters away, the kid cradled in her lap. She squinted in the bright sunlight despite the fact that she wore the floppy hat from Lothal, dug out from whatever storage compartment it’d been stashed in. The hat might look silly on some people, but somehow she looked no less deadly wearing it.

“Have you done much training with swords?” the Jedi in front of him asked, bringing his attention back to the task at hand.

“Some,” Din answered with a slight shake of his head, “but they’re not a common weapon among Mandalorians.”

Luke nodded. “I don’t think that fighting style is very common among anyone except the Jedi and the Sith. Unlike a standard sword, though, a lightsaber can deflect blaster bolts fairly easily.”

“I have some… experience with that.”

Luke raised his eyebrows at him, but when Din didn’t elaborate he didn’t pry. With a practiced movement he unclipped the hilt of his own saber and held it out in front of him. “You know the basics, I suppose?”

“Pretty much.”

The Jedi tapped two fingers on the body of the handle. “Every lightsaber is powered by a kyber crystal. They can be made from many different types of stones, and the color that you see is in part determined by that choice. Most Jedi sabers are blue or green, and those of the Sith are red. I don’t know how the Darksaber was made—I don’t think anyone does anymore—but it is quite unique.”

Din lifted the angular hilt that he carried, wondering what was inside the slim handle. What stone would a Mandalorian choose for such a weapon? He supposed he would never know. He looked up to see Skywalker staring at him eagerly.

“Could I…? I mean—can I see it?” he stammered. “Just for a moment?”

Din grunted and held out the hilt for the Jedi to take. Luke proceeded to turn it over every which way, inspecting it with a clearly trained eye. When he’d satisfied himself he held it out toward the Mandalorian reverently.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he breathed in amazement. After a few moments he seemed to snap himself out of his reverie and back to the lesson. “When you fight with a lightsaber, you’re fighting with pure energy. Your thoughts, your actions: they become this energy and become part of the blade. If you know the basics of sword combat then you know the basics of lightsaber combat, but if you think of it only as a sword you will be disarmed before you know it.”

Din nodded in understanding. He’d felt the difference when he’d held the saber, even before Mo had seemed to funnel what he now knew to be the Force through him.

Luke thumbed on his lightsaber and the glowing green blade slid out of the hilt. “All of the weight is in the hilt, and the blade can cut in every direction. When you swing it, it will feel like nothing, but don’t let that fool you: when you come into contact with something solid you’ll feel the repulsion of the blade. Most slashes are thus two-handed. Why don’t you turn on yours now?”

Din took a deep breath and hit the trigger button. The long blade that seemed to absorb all of the light around it slid smoothly out of the hilt. He hadn’t noticed before, but the hum of the Darksaber was considerably higher-pitched than the Jedi’s saber. He looked up to see Luke staring at the weapon with wide eyes, his mouth hanging slightly open.

Now that they were side-by-side, the difference between them were even more stark: the tip of the Darksaber was pointed and slightly curved, and the blade was compressed. The Mandalorian weapon made the lightsaber looked like blunt baton, but Din harbored no illusions about its deadliness.

“I’m guessing that it is unlikely that you’d be dueling another saber-wielder, but I’ll show you some of the unique attacks and defenses, and the best way to disarm someone. To begin, try a basic attack.”

Skywalker stepped one foot back and dropped into a crouch, and Din did his best to mimic the posture. He tried to recall his sword fighting classes, all those years ago, and with a step forward he swung his blade at the Jedi.

The Darksaber whistled as it slid through the air, and Skywalker lifted his own blade to parry. When the two blades met, they emitted an ear-splitting screech. It was eerily similar to the sound that the saber had made when it had bit into his vambrace on that battlefield. Din almost dropped the weapon in surprise, and Luke looked just as startled. Quickly he looked over to where Cara sat; her face was pale and drawn, and her eyes had a faraway look.

He turned off the Darksaber and held it out blindly toward the Jedi. “Hold this for a second.”

When Skywalker took it, Din hurried off across the grassy clearing toward his wife and child. Mo looked completely unfazed, and if anything somewhat interested, but Cara… he’d never seen her look this distressed.

“Cara,” he said quickly, crouching down in front of her. She stared steadfastly away from him. “Cara, look at me.” He reached up and gently laid a hand on her cheek, turning her face to him. Slowly, her eyes tracked to where his lay under the helmet. “Are you ok?”

She swallowed hard and nodded, but absently. He was not convinced.“Cara, talk to me. Are you ok?”

Blinking rapidly, she suddenly focused on him. “Yeah,” she said breezily. “I’m fine. Why would I not be fine?”

“You don’t seem fine.”

“Well, I am. The sound just startled me.”

He stared at her for a long moment, challenging this assertion, but she just smiled and shrugged.

“Maybe you should take a walk… somewhere out of earshot,” he suggested.

Cara reached out and put a hand on one of his, squeezing it as if he was the one who needed comfort. “I promise, I’ll be ok. Go practice.”

Din stood, feeling uncertain. If she said she could handle it, he had to trust her, but at the same time he knew she was trying to downplay the trauma from that night. Wordlessly, he turned and walked over to where the Jedi stood, his eyes still wide.

“Did you know it was going to do that?” Skywalker asked.

Din shook his head. “Not exactly.” Luke looked at him quizzically so Din held up his forearm, demonstrating the still-damaged vambrace. “It made the almost the same sound as it cut through beskar.”

“That’s— wow,” Luke replied, shaking his head in disbelief. “I thought beskar was basically impervious to lightsaber strikes.”

“It is—basically. But a forceful directed blow… I guess not. Or maybe it’s the Darksaber.”“I wouldn’t be surprised. Well, that complicates things a bit.”

Din thought for a minute. Ultimately, he better get used to it. “If we keep the blade-to-blade contact brief, it shouldn’t be that loud.”

“As long as it’s ok with you,” Luke replied with an unmistakable glance at Cara. “We can do some training with practice sabers—really just half poles—but there’s no way to mimic the unique balance.”

Din looked over to where she sat, currently engaged in talking to the kid in her lap. She appeared completely at ease, as if she hadn’t just relived the same nightmare he had. He was still watching Cara when he answered.

“The Mandalorians have a saying: to train without live weapons is to invite death to be your support in battle.” He flicked the switch and the Darksaber ignited again beside him with its high hum. “We use the sabers.”

The Jedi nodded and lit his own blade, crouching down into his fighting stance again. “Attack.”

It was perhaps unsurprising that Din was a quick study. The muscle memory that had come with his sword training, all those years ago, returned quickly. Basic parries, attacks, and blocks were all the same, and once he got used to the weird balance of all the weight in the hilt he appreciated the lightness of the weapon. The fighting was exhausting, though, and after a few hours he was soaked through in sweat, his movements getting slower. When Skywalker succeeded in disarming him with a blow to the hilt of the Darksaber, Din had to call it quits for the day.

“You’re a natural!” Luke exclaimed as he clasped hands with the Mandalorian. The Jedi seemed hardly winded.

Din just shrugged. “I’m good with weapons. Again tomorrow?”“Absolutely! I was thinking of having a session with Mo later—after a rest of course. Would you all be up for that?”

“Of course. Thank you again for all your help; I hope we’re not taking away your attention from your students.”

Luke laughed and waved him off. “Nonsense. I should thank you. This is the most excitement I’ve had in years.”

Din had to smile at that; they did seem to have that affect on people.

* * *

Years later, when Cara would look back on that time in their lives, it all seemed like a blur. She had gone from knowing next to nothing about the Force and the Jedi to being thoroughly immersed in it, and at times more than a little overwhelmed. She was pretty sure Din felt the same way, and she knew that they shared one distinct memory of the time: the insidious, creeping realization that they could not, in fact, take the kid far away from all of this.

It wasn’t just the look on his face when he played with the other children, the youngest of them more than three times his developmental (if not physical) age. It wasn’t just how they’d learned more about him in the last four days than they had in more than a year. It wasn’t just that he seemed to be rapidly approaching developmental milestones that had seemed far away.

It was all of these things together.

The day of the full realization of what they must do dawned like the previous ones. She woke to the sound of Din softly clattering cups in the galley as he put on a pot of caf. Most people wouldn’t have heard them, but these minute sounds had become her alarm, though he’d likely be horrified to know it. He thought he was being so quiet.

She stretched in the bed, yawning and rubbing her eyes. Today Mo was at the foot of the bed—it was about a fifty-fifty chance that he’d be there—watching her as he chewed on a stuffed toy frog. He clutched something else in his other hand, but Cara couldn’t make out what it was. She propped herself up on one elbow and furrowed her brow at him.

“Whatcha got there, honey?” she asked through another yawn, holding out a hand to him.

He toddled forward a few steps on the bed, coming within her reach. With a wet plop he pulled the frog from his mouth and held out his other hand. Gently she reached out and took it from him, turning it over in her hand. It was the mythosaur pendant that Din had given him; she knew hers was tucked away from grasping hands.

“What’s up, huh? Whatcha doing with your pendant?”

“Dada,” he answered, grinning at her.

Cara’s head snapped up, her eyes wide. Perhaps she was still asleep and dreaming, or her sleep-clouded brain had imagined it.

“What?” she whispered.

“Dada!” he said again more forcefully. He dropped the frog and held up his arms for a hug.

She forced herself to shake off the rest of her sleep and sit up, pulling Mo into her lap. “Where’d you learn that?” she murmured, smoothing down his ears. “Does dada know?”

The look he gave her suggested that Din did not. Somehow Mo managed to look both mischevious and utterly pleased with himself. Still holding the kid, she pushed herself out of bed and padded into the common space and toward the galley where Din was still brewing caf. He turned when he heard her coming, his brow furrowed.

“You’re up earlier than usual. Did he wake you? Sorry, I should have kept him out here…”

“Din,” she interrupted, shaking her head. She held out the pendant in one hand. “He brought this in and said—”

“Dada!” Mo cried, holding out both arms toward Din.

Din stared at them, looking from Mo to Cara and back again, his eyes wide. “Did he just…?”

Cara nodded slowly as she closed the gap between them. Din was clearly stunned as he reached out to take the kid, but as he tried to lift him out of Cara’s arms Mo sat backward and shook his head. Then, to their consternation, he held out his hands again.

“Dada mama,” he babbled happily, “dada mama dada.”

This was, apparently, too much for Cara. She felt the sting of tears filling her eyes and tightened her arms around him. Din proceeded to wrap them both in a hug, which was apparently just waht Mo wanted because he squealed in delight and began cooing nonsense words again.

“You heard that, right?” Cara asked. “It was real?”

Din kissed her lightly on the side of her head. “It was real.”

She turned slightly to look up at him. “Do you think Skywalker taught him?”“Maybe?” he answered, shaking his head. “It seems as likely as anything.”

“Din, four days with the Jedi and he’s speaking more than his nonsense words. That can’t be a coincidence. What if he needs other Force users to develop properly?”

“I know. I think I’ve known for a couple days now but didn’t want to admit it.”

“We have to tell Skywalker,” she sighed.

The Jedi could tell that something was different when he met them later that morning, that much was evident. He tilted his head at them as they approached, a curious expression on his face.

“Is everything ok?”

Din and Cara looked at each other, then down at the kid. “It is. Better than ok. He spoke this morning. Called us mama and dada,” Din announced.

“That’s wonderful!” Luke replied, clapping his hands together.

“Did you—is that something you worked on with him?” Cara asked.

To their surprise, Luke shook his head. “No, not specifically. I guess it just came out of some of our sessions?”

“Luke, we’ve been talking,” Din sighed. “Do you think it’s possible that his species requires time spent with other Force users for proper development? And that’s one of the reasons he was still basically a baby at 50?”

Skywalker considered this, putting one hand to his chin. “I’ve never heard of anything like that, but I suppose it’s possible. Like I said, we know almost nothing about them.”

That was it, then. Maybe it wasn’t true, but could they take the risk that it was? Their child deserved better. Cara glanced at Din. They’d prepared for this possibility.

“We can’t take him away from all of this,” Din announced. “The potential that this school is exactly what he needs is too high. So… Cara and I have decided to settle on Lah’mu for a while. We can visit a few times a week for lessons. If that arrangement would be acceptable to you…?”

“Oh yes, that would be great!” Luke exclaimed. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

Cara looked down at Mo, who was dozing in her arms. “It’s what he needs.”

“And we’d do anything for him,” Din added.

Cara glanced up at her husband, the fierce Mandalorian warrior who just declared he’d do anything for a small child. Their child.“This is the Way.”

* * *

“Do we really need to be spending all that money on a coolant pump right now?” Cara asked as she shoved her floppy hat back into a storage compartment.

“We still need the ship. Hell, we’re going to be living on it until we get a house built. We need the pump.”

She pursed her lips but said nothing. Though he wouldn’t have guessed it before, Cara had turned out to be the more frugal of the two of them, often serving as the voice of reason when it came to their credits. But not this time. They’d be lucky if the pump lasted until Dantooine. He was right this time, much to her chagrin.

“Maybe we should do another job before we start settling. The Lothal credits are almost gone.”

He nodded. “I’ll contact Karga when we get to Dantoo Town. Maybe he’s got something with a decent payout.”

Din bustled about the cabin, picking up random things that had been left out during their stay and storing them in preparation for their departure. They’d said their goodbyes to the Jedi—for a short time at least. Staying in the area had been the only thing he could think of that would work, the only acceptable compromise. Thankfully Cara had seen it that way as well, despite her earlier assertion that Lah’mu was too remote and sparsely populated.

“I’m going up to the cockpit,” he announced when he’d stowed just about everything, turning toward the ladder.

“Dada!” Mo squealed, holding his arms out toward Din.

Cara smirked at him as he reached down to pick up the kid from where he sat on the table, having recently demolished breakfast. She uncerimoniously dumped the dishes into the cleaning compartment and set about to pouring herself another cup of caf before she put away the maker.

Mo clung to Din’s neck, one ear smashed against his father’s head, as the Mandalorian climbed the ladder to the cockpit. When he reached the top he sat down in his chair and deposited the kid next to him. The outstretched hand next to him was unnecessary; he was already unscrewing the ball from the hyperdrive shaft before the kid could reach for it. 

After a few moments Cara appeared at the top of the ladder and slid into her own seat. Din made a few more adjustments and then lifted the Razor Crest off the ground. As they hit the limit of the atmosphere he saw what looked like a small ripple in the space around them: they had left the protective shield hiding the Jedi school. The sensors on the ship suddenly went blank, not showing the moon that they’d just left. He was amazed by the complete concealment; if not for the codes that Skywalker had given them that would allow them to return to the school even without a Jedi or padawan on board, they’d never find it again.

The shield apparently also blocked incoming messages, because as soon as they’d left a notification blipped up on the screen next to him. Din triggered the holo and was surprised to see Sabine’s face pop up on the panel next to him. He could hear Cara lean forward behind him.

“I’m not sure if you’ll get this, but I’ll be in the Raioballo sector soon and remembered you were heading that direction. Give me a buzz if you’re still in the area and want to meet up.”

Din looked down at the timestamp on the message: three days ago. Depending on her ship she might even be there already. After he punched in the route to take them to the nearest hyperspace lane, he turned his chair around to look at Cara.

“Should I say we’re headed to Dantooine?”

“Why is that even a question?” she scoffed, laughing at him. “Of course we should.”

Before he could do anything else she had popped out of her seat and leaned over the holo console. “Sabine! We’ll be in Dantoo Town in a few hours. Know any good cantinas?”

With the punch of a few buttons, the message was dispatched and Cara sat back in her seat, kicking her feet up on a nearby panel. It wasn’t long before the console beeped again, indicating a reply had been received.

“Excellent!” Sabine’s hologram proclaimed. “Meet me at Nax’s when you get in.”

“How long until we hit the hyperspace lane?” Cara asked him.

“Maybe two hours.”

“But not long in hyperspace.”

“Correct,” he answered, cocking his head at her curiously.

Grinning mischeviously, Cara nodded over to where Mo lay, curled into a ball on the panel he’d been sitting on. He was socked out, snoring softly, and would likely stay that way until they hit hyperspace.

“I think we could both use a shower before we get there, don’t you?”

“I just took one this morn—mph.”

His protest was immediately cut off by her lips meeting his as she wrapped her hand in the loose fabric of his shirt, pulling him toward her.

“Help me, then? There’s always that spot I can’t reach…” she drawled, pulling him toward the ladder.

Din knew the spot all right and felt his pants getting tight at the thought. Well, he supposed more time in the shower wouldn’t hurt…

Somehow she’d managed to shed her shirt by the time they reached the bottom of the ladder and her pants followed quickly after, leaving her in only her bra and underwear.

“Hey, I just picked this place up,” he scolded playfully at the discarded clothing on the ground.

“Oh, do you want me to pick them up?”Slowly, she bent over to pick up the shirt and the pants, first facing toward him so that her ample bosom threatened to spill over the top of her bra, and then facing away from him. Unable to help himself, Din walked up behind her and smoothed his hands over her round ass, which she pushed ever so helpfully in his direction. When she straightened he wrapped his arms around her, letting his hands slide across the taught skin of her stomach. One reached up to squeeze her breast through her bra, while the other pushed south and into the top of her panties.

Cara moaned against him, letting her head fall back against his shoulder as he kissed her neck. She pressed herself backward into him harder and rubbed her ass up and down on his erection, and it was his turn to try to stifle a groan. He didn’t even care when she dropped the clothes on the ground again.

Abruptly she turned in his grasp and kissed him hungrily, sliding her hands up under his shirt to splay across his skin. He pushed her backward until her back contacted the shower door and pressed his body against hers.

“Din,” she gasped as he turned his attention back to her neck. “I—uh—had a thought.”

“Hmmm?” he hummed into her skin as he thumbed her hardening nipple through the fabric. Perhaps a new position to try out, or…

Gently, she put her hands on either side of his head and pulled him back to look into his eyes. He furrowed his brow at her, suddenly concerned something was wrong.

“My birth control… it expires soon. I could get a new implant, or… I could not.”

Din blinked at her several times, not quite believing what he was hearing. He stared at her for long enough that she must have thought he didn’t understand.“You know, so we could…”

“I didn’t think you wanted another kid,” he blurted out, cutting her off before she could finish the sentence.

A faint flush crept over her features. “Yeah, well, neither did I. But, you know, we’re gonna settle down, and I suddenly feel, I don’t know, drawn to the idea.”

“Cara Dune, nesting? I never thought I’d see the day,” he teased, smirking at her.

“Of course if you don’t want…” she added quickly, biting her lip uncertainly.

“No,” he broke in. “I—I do. I never thought I’d say that either, but I really, really do.”

All at once her face broke into the most gorgeous, radiant smile he thought he’d ever seen. There was no way he could resist kissing her again, and again, and again. He heard her hands fumbling with the door to the shower behind her as his own slid her panties down over her hips.

“You’re gonna need to lose those clothes,” she said as she pushed him away slightly.

With a smooth movement she peeled her bra over her head, leaving her stark naked before him. He was briefly entranced, as he so often was by her form, until she laughed at him and stepped into the shower.“Join me when you’re ready,” she called after him, and he heard the spray of water kick on. “But don’t take too long.”

That, of course, was an utter impossibility.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you notice that there is a final number of chapters on this work now? OMG it's almost over! I figured out my ending for this and I'm honestly so happy with it and so excited for you all to read it.
> 
> Thank you so much for your comments! I love reading what you guys think of these chapters. I hope you enjoyed this one, let me know what you think!


	23. Chapter 23

To be honest, Dantoo Town was bigger than she expected. Years ago, her unit was slated to be deployed temporarily the Rebel base on Dantooine, but the base had to be evacuated before they could get there. She wondered how much of it was left, and how much the Imps had destroyed. She might get to find out, some day.

For now, Din had landed the Razor Crest not too far from Nax’s Cantina. Cara stood at the top of the lowered ramp next to him, Mo strapped to her back in his carrier. He was bright eyed and awake after his nap, which had fortunately lasted the entire two hours they’d hoped. She could hear him babbling softly behind her.

Din had geared up in his freshly-polished armor, his cape flapping gently in the breeze behind him. There was something about the armor… even after everything he’d shared with her, she still felt her heart go pitter-patter to see him like this, just as she had the when they’d first met. Looking back now, she should have known she was a goner the moment he swaggered into that cantina on Sorgan.

“The repair shop is on the other side of town. You meet Sabine, I’ll drop the ship and take a speeder to the cantina.”

“Sounds good to me,” she answered with a smile.

Stretching up slightly, she kissed the cheek of his helmet. A faint trace of her lips remained the otherwise shiny surface, and she smiled. Maybe Din wouldn’t appreciate it, but she rather liked the idea of him being so marked. Satisfied, she practically skipped off down the ramp, feeling light and happy.

She’d been pondering the question of another kid for a while now, even before the wedding and everything that followed. Not only had she not considered it when she was younger, she had been actively repulsed by the idea. Pregnancy and motherhood had seemed to be a thing to reduce a woman to nothing more than an accessory, to be left at home and forgotten about. Now she’d become a mother almost by accident, and she felt like she couldn’t have been more wrong.

These thoughts must have left some strange expression on her face because when she entered the cantina she found Sabine smirking at her, clearly amused. The Mandalorian wore her painted armor, embellished further since they’d parted, and her helmet sat next to her on the bench. When Cara approached she rose and embraced her like a sister.

“Look at you two!” Sabine exclaimed. “He’s looking well.”

“Mo,” Cara told her as she pulled the kid from his carrier. “Short for Yaimo. And he’s doing great.”

Sabine’s eyes went wide. “Oh, you named him!”

“A lot has happened since we left Mandalore,” Cara said, sliding into the opposite bench.

“I’ll say, you look radiant,” the Mandalorian gushed. She leaned on the table conspiratorialy. “Spill. Well, get a drink first, then spill.”

Cara flagged down a server and ordered soup and a whiskey, then turned back to her friend. “Well, we found the Jedi.”  
  
“Oh, yes?”

“I’ll let Din tell you more, but it was a good experience. Mo said his first word.”

“And?”  
  
Cara made a face of fake disgust. “It was ‘dada’.”

“Oh, well that figures.”

“Yeah, well, he probably deserves it,” she sighed dramatically.

Their hearty laughter was interrupted when the server returned with the soup and the whiskey. Cara pushed the soup toward Mo, who attacked it with enthusiasm, then picked up her drink and swirled the ice around a couple of times.

“Also… we said the words.”

Sabine gasped and reached out to squeeze Cara’s free hand. “Ohmygods, that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you, Cara.”

“I couldn’t have done it without your help.”  
  
“I think that’s not true, but I’ll take it. Toast?” Sabine raised her own glass and Cara reached forward to clink it with hers.

They had an easy rapport, as if they’d known each other for years. Cara didn’t know how long they were lost in conversation before Din arrived, turning heads as he walked through the bar toward them. As he slid onto the seat next to Cara, Sabine raised her glass to him.

“I hear congratulations are in order.”

Din looked at Cara, who grinned at him. “I told her about the wedding.”

“Ah. Well, thank you. And I suspect I also need to thank you for the Mando’a lesson.”

Sabine laughed. “My pleasure. With all the loss and pain after the Purge, and in the aftermath, it just makes me so damn happy to see some joy in the galaxy. You two really deserve it. And where are you off to next?”  
  
Din shot a glance at Cara. “You didn’t tell her?”  
  
“I though you’d want to,” she answered with a shrug.

“We’re pretty sure that the kid needs training from the Jedi. So, we’ve decided to stay near the school for a while. See how the training goes, and then we’ll reassess.”

Sabine nodded with interest. “It sounds like you’re making the right decision, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I hoped you would come back to Mandalore.”

“I thought about it,” Din sighed.

Cara looked at him in surprise. He’d never mentioned this at all. To be fair, they hadn’t really discussed where to settle until the decision had practically been made for them, but this new information made her wonder how long he’d been thinking about it.

Din noticed this reaction and looked at her. “I didn’t want to bring it up unless I was sure, and I wasn’t.” Turning back to Sabine, he continued. “I have a complicated relationship with Mandalore, made more complicated by the fact that we now hold the Darksaber. I don’t think I could deal with the pressure that living there with it in my possession would undoubtedly entail.”

“I get it,” Sabine replied, shaking her head gently.  
  
“I know you do.”

“Did you get any lessons from the Jedi?”

He nodded. “I did. And I guess I’ll get to have more, now.”

“Makes a hell of a sound when it hits a lightsaber, doesn’t it?”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Cara added with a laugh. To tell the truth, watching Din train with the saber over the course of a couple of days had dulled her reaction to the sound of it. She still was far from ready to use it herself, but it was better.

“Where will you be living?”  
  
“On Lah’mu,” Din answered. “The school is hidden near there.”

“I may have to swing by sometimes, if you’ll be open to visitors.”  
  
Cara leaned forward and grabbed Sabine’s hand. “For you? Any time.”

“We’ll be heading out to Nevarro soon,” Din said, and when Cara cocked an eyebrow at him he explained, “Karga says he has some pucks for us but we still need to come in to pick up the fobs.” He turned his attention back to Sabine. “If you’d like, I could deliver a message to the covert there.”

“Only that all Mandalorians should consider Mandalore their home, despite any previous greviances,” Sabine replied, suddenly appearing every bit the council-member that she was. ”We need to stick together if we’re going to survive. Anyone who wants to move is more than welcome.”

“I will tell them, but I warn you that I don’t think they will be interested. The tribe has always been outcasts. It is built into our identity.”

The other Mandalorian nodded in resigned understanding. “I know, but they should know anyway.”

“I’ll do my best,” he promised.

* * *

The Armorer turned when they entered the smithy, cocking her head at them. “Clan Mudhorn,” she greeted. “What brings you back to the covert?”

“We wanted to say hi,” Cara answered before Din could, grinning cheekily.

Din couldn’t help but smile at her. “And I have a message for the tribe from Mandalore.”

“Mandalore?” the Armorer replied, the curiosity in her voice obvious though she was clearly trying to conceal it. “What would they ask of us?”

“Nothing. They want only to offer an invitation. Like us all, they suffered great losses during the Purge. They send a message of unity, that all Mandalorians are welcome on our ancestral homeworld.”

The other Mandalorian stared at him for a moment, then turned back to the plate she’d been working on as they entered. At first Din didn’t think she was going to respond, but after another moment she spoke again.

“Those are pretty words. We know not the leadership of Mandalore, nor those that live there. The tribe could no more consider Mandalore our home than Mustafar.”

Din bent his head. He’d known that they wouldn’t go, but to hear such a rebuke was surprisingly disappointing. “I told them this would be your reply.” In so many words, anyway.

“You have not forgotten our Way, then.”

“No.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, and Din felt her gaze piercing right through him. Could she tell? Was there some outward mark, invisible to all but her, that betrayed his removal of his helmet? He hadn’t lied, so why did he feel like he had?

“You have wed,” she said eventually, utterly stunning him.

“How can you tell?” Cara asked before he could.

The Armorer looked at Cara and then back to Din. “I can tell. Many congratulations.”  
  
“Thank you,” he managed, still reeling. He was all but certain that somehow she _could_ tell he’d removed his helmet for his family, but also that she didn’t care.

“You need a proper Mandalorian suit of armor,” the Armorer said, looking down at her work but clearly speaking to Cara.

“Wha—I couldn’t—,” Cara stammered. “I mean, thank you, but that is too generous of a gift.”

The Armorer straightened again and walked over to Cara. “Just as when I made you that,” she said, nodding at the beskar epaulet, “this is not a gift.” She turned back to her forge. “It will be a lighter beskar alloy, and not quite as strong. But stronger than the _things_ you wear now.”

She wasn’t even trying to hide the distain in her voice, and Din had to fight back a laugh. Cara had been rendered speechless.

“Give your partner the child, and come here so I can measure you.”

The Armorer’s tone brooked no argument, and Cara offered no more. Instead she simply obeyed, handing Mo to Din and walking over to where the Armorer stood. Din watched, amused and amazed, as his wife was measured and fitted for armor. He had not even considered that this would be a possibility when they came here, and certainly far more than he deserved. Perhaps it wasn’t about him, though; he knew Cara had enjoyed a relationship with the covert while he’d been gone. When the Armorer had finished she straightened up and turned to Din again.

“It will be ready in an hour or two. I trust you have something else to occupy you for this time?”

“We do.”

“Very well.”  
  
“There’s something else you should know,” Din said before he could stop himself. The Armorer turned and waited for him to continue. “We hold the Darksaber.”

“You won it rightfully? Through combat?”

“Yes.”

“But you have not claimed the title of Mand’alor.”  
  
“No.”

“That is a pity,” she said, turning back to her work. “Perhaps our answer would be different if it were so.”

* * *

Din was silent during their entire trip out of the sewers, and Cara could tell he was still processing everything the Armorer had said. Hell, _she_ was still processing everything the Armorer had said. The only one who appeared entirely unaffected by the visit was Mo, who babbled happily as they walked.

They found Greef at his usual table in the cantina, yelling at some poor sap who had failed to deliver the bounty he had contracted. Now the bounty was probably half way across the galaxy, Greef was saying, and who was he going to get to clean up this mess?

Cara smiled. Months ago she’d be the one kicking the failed hunter out on his ass, but now Greef did it himself.

“Still haven’t found another enforcer, huh?” she said as he turned away from the door.

“Not one as good as you. Here for those pucks, I suppose? I might have another you could take.”

They sat down at Greef’s table and he shuffled through a few pucks, pulling out two. He pushed them over to Cara and Din along with the one that still remained from the failed hunter.

“These are all good pucks, a bit trickier than some of these good-for-nothing kids can handle. I’ve made an arrangement for delivery to the guild agent out on Dantooine, a man named Kalo. He promises to pay Republic credits.”

“You sure?” Din asked, gathering the pucks. “We can bring them back here.”

Greef laughed. “Don’t worry, I sold these contracts to Kalo for double what I thought I’d get for them in the first place. He’s convinced he can get more.”

“Doesn’t sound very smart,” Cara said skeptically.

“Maybe not. But he’s honorable—as honorable as they get in the guild, at least. You can trust him. Hey, if you don’t mind me asking: why the multiple jobs, and in the Raioballo sector?”

Din and Cara looked at each other. “We’re settling down for a while,” Din explained. “On a planet called Lah’mu.”  
  
“Never heard of it.”

Din let out a soft chuckle. “That’s kind of the point.”

Greef leaned back in his seat, narrowing his eyes as he looked at the three of them. “Settling down, huh? You’re not retiring, are you?”  
  
“Not completely,” Din answered. “But… slowing down.”

“And you’re staying with him?” Greef asked Cara, looking a bit confused.

She smirked back at him. “We’re married, Greef.”

“You don’t say! Well I never. Since when?”

“About a week,” she answered.

“Well, congrats,” Greef said, shaking his head at them. “I’m happy for you guys, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed to lose you guys to the other side of the galaxy.”

“Thank you, Greef. For everything,” Din replied, pushing himself up to standing. Cara followed suit, grabbing Mo from where he’d been sitting on the bench next to them.

“Don’t mention it. Just make sure to stop in if you’re ever in this sector, yeah?” Greef stuck out his hand, and Din clasped it with his.

“Of course.”

Turning to Cara, he offered his hand, and when she took it he leaned in conspiratorily. “Take care of these boys, yeah? I trust you’ll keep them out of trouble.”  
  
“I’ll do my best,” she replied, laughing.

* * *

The Armorer was apparently pouring the last piece of Cara’s armor when they returned: a knee guard, not too dissimilar to the one Cara currently wore. On the bench nearby lay a pile of other pieces, the beskar shining even in the dim light of the smithy.

“Take off your old armor,” the Mandalorian commanded as she tempered the knee guard.

Cara glanced at Din uncertainly but he just tipped his head and reached out to take Mo from her. Taking a deep breath, she pulled off the padded armor that she’d worn ever since Din had met her. The Armorer took this piece from her and removed the beskar epaulet that she had forged months ago, back when they were just coming to terms with their feelings. Din had been overwhelmed then when she’d showed up with the piece; he didn’t know what seeing Cara in full armor would do to him.

After she removed her knee guard and vambraces, Cara moved to undo her gun belt but the Armorer stopped her.

“You can leave that on.” She moved to the table and picked up a padded vest. “I designed this based on the armor you are already familiar with, combined with the light combat armor that many women favor.”

The Armorer handed the vest to Cara, who pulled it on over her black tank top. Then she stood quietly as the Armorer affixed the epaulets—first the older, then the matching newer one—and a two part chest piece: the curved yolk that evoked the one from her old armor, and the new full chest plate with an elongate hexagon in the center that mirrored Din’s. The vambraces and knee guards—two, Din noticed, to replace the single one she wore—were next, until the only thing remaining on the bench was a helmet.

The Armorer stepped back to check the overall fit, and Din was struck by how natural Cara looked in it. Perhaps it was the fact that the new armor echoed the old, so that she mostly looked like a shinier version of her usual self. Her teal and black pants still were prominent, and he knew she’d be pleased with that; Cara loved those pants. But it was also the way she held herself, like she’d been born into it. Seeing her like this was less overwhelming and more… perfect. It felt complete.

Apparenty satisfied, the Armorer turned back to the bench and picked up the slim helmet, handing it to Cara.

“I can’t—I can’t wear that, can I?” Cara protested, not reaching up to take it. “I show my face to the world.”

“The helmet is yours, Cara Dune. You may wear it, or not. As to whether you are permitted to do so, that is not up to me. You are not of this covert, not of this tribe. You have your own clan.”

Slowly, Cara reached out and took the helmet, but she didn’t put it on. Instead, she tucked it under her arm the way she had seen Sabine do before.

“Thank you. I don’t feel right wearing it now, but I will keep it safe.”

The Armorer inclined her head. “Very well. Perhaps the next time we meet, you will wear it.”

“Please let us offer you some payment for all of this,” Din said.

“I will not accept any. Consider it an investment, one that I expect to see a return on in the future.”

Din had a feeling there was more to this statement than she was saying, but he couldn’t figure out what. It was almost as if the Armorer knew something that they did not, and was smiling smugly beneath her helmet.

“Farewell Clan Mudhorn. Protect your family, for nothing is more important in these troubled times.” She tipped her head at Mo, nestled in Din’s arms. “The foundlings are the future.”

Din inclined his head at her. “This is the Way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of loose ends to tie up; here are some of them! Thank you for all your support, just the epilogue to go! 😱
> 
> Comments make my day, I'd love to hear if you have enjoyed this work!


	24. Chapter 24

_Mudhorn Homestead, Lah’mu_  
_15 years later_

Din knew they were coming minutes before the sensors sounded the alarm. He would never be considered Force sensitive, but if you spent as much time training with a lightsaber and raising a powerful Force user as he did, you picked up some things. Knowing when someone was approaching their secluded homestead unannounced was one of them.

He straightened from his work, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of a dirty hand. He was already half way across the field, hoe in hand, when the alarm blared over the tinny speaker of the device clipped to his belt. His gait was brisk but not frantic: he knew he’d have enough time to retrieve his helmet from the house before they could make it to him, no matter how fast their ship.

“Dad!” his daughter called from the back porch as he crested the hill.

“I know,” he called back. “Where is your mother?”

“Trying to hail them.”

At 14, she was tall and willowy, her deceptively slight form hiding her considerable strength from constant training. She stood with one leg cocked out and her hip at a jaunty angle as she waited for him, his helmet tucked under one arm. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes were squinted in the bright sun and the breeze gently ruffled the black wavy hair that fell to her shoulders. Not for the first time, Din Djarin reflected on the fact that his daughter was a stunner, just like her mother, and thanked the gods that they lived in the middle of nowhere.

When he approached she held out the helmet to him and he took it, wiping his face with the hem of his shirt before he put it on. It had been nearly a week since he’d worn it, which was not something he could have ever imagined saying in the past.

“What’s your brother up to?” he asked as the entered the house.

Catra shrugged, the movement full of teenage indifference. “How should I know?”

“Because you should be looking after him?”  
  
“He’s old enough to take care of himself,” she replied defiantly, but she could clearly see the disappointed expression he was giving her despite the helmet. “He’s with mom.”

They entered the small room crammed with electronics and barely large enough to hold them all. Mo had perched himself on a stool so he could look over the proceedings. Based on Catra’s development, he was probably the equivalent of about 7 years old in human years now, although there were times when he seemed much older. Cara sat at the main console, talking into a headset. Well, yelling really.

“I don’t care who the hell you are, you can’t just come barging in here without hailing first.” There was a pause and he watched her listen, her eyebrows knit into a look of supreme annoyance. “Use any open frequency, dumbass!”

“Hon,” Din said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She looked up at him with a huff and ripped the headset off. “Assholes refuse to state their business. All they say is that they’re from Mandalore, and that it’s important. I don’t see what’s _so_ important that they couldn’t…”

The rest of her tirade was drowned out by the sound of a ship landing near the house. Din frowned. Couldn’t they see there was a landing area further away, near the Razor Crest? And if there were news from Mandalore, why had Sabine not contacted them first?

Din walked through the house and toward the front door, the rest of his small clan trailing behind him. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps their visitors were not from Mandalore, and instead had come with sinister motives, but it seemed unlikely that anyone one would have been able to find them other than a few friends.

“Do you think there’ll be trouble?” Mo’s high voice piped up as he ran along beside them as quickly as his short legs would carry him. “I can help!”

“No,” Din answered. “You know what Master Skywalker said about using the Force outside of the school.”

Mo’s ears drooped and he looked at the ground. “I knooooow,” he replied sullenly.

“Anyway, no one’s fighting,” Din warned, hoping he was right.

“Then why does mom have a blaster?” Catra shot back.

“Because mom always does,” Cara answered.

This wasn’t strictly true, of course, and Din could practically feel their teenaged daughter’s eyes rolling. To her credit, she didn’t talk back, but she did grab a staff on her way through the house. When they emerged onto the front porch they stopped and his family arrayed themselves on either side of him. He couldn’t help but feel more than a little proud of his clan.

The group of people that the ship in their front yard disgorged were probably the last group that he would have expected. Perhaps half of the Council of Mandalore, led at their front by one Bo-Katan Kryze. Suddenly Din thought of the Darksaber, tucked safely in a vault in between training sessions. If they had come to try to claim it, they would be sorely disappointed.

“Clan Djarin. These past years have treated you well,” Bo-Katan greeted, stopping perhaps a meter away from them.

Din folded his arms in front of him. “Where is Sabine?”

“On a mission that she could not cut short, I’m afraid. She sends us in her stead.”

“My wife tells me that you would not state your business before landing.”

“That was an impossibility. There are many ears listening on open channels these days.”

“Well, there are no ears listening here but ours. Say your piece.”

Bo-Katan inclined her head. “I trust you still possess the Darksaber?”  
  
“We do.” So it was about the Darksaber after all. Din felt his muscles coiling in readiness for a fight, despite his earlier words.

“I don’t know what kind of galactic news you get out here, but these are dark days. Remnants of the Empire are reforming into a new and terrible coalition. They call themselves the First Order.”  
  
This was not the tack that he was expecting them to take. Despite their remoteness he knew all about the First Order thanks to Skywalker and his connection to the New Republic. Din tipped his head at them. “I’m familiar.”

“Much of Mandalore has been rebuilt, and many have returned, but our people are still scattered throughout the galaxy. In the face of this growing threat we can no longer afford to be divided. We need to unite the tribes and stand together, or risk being wiped out entirely this time.”

“And this has what to do with us?” Cara asked. Her hands were defiantly planted on her hips, one openly on the handle of her blaster. Well, Catra came by it honestly.

“The council cannot rule. Ironically, it is our very diversity that makes us unpalatable to the remote tribes. We need a Mand’alor. One strong leader, someone who people will follow.”

“So you’ve come for the Darksaber. Well, I’m not giving it up, and I doubt any of you could take it from me,” Din replied, just as defiant as Cara had been.

Bo-Katan’s brow furrowed, and she looked at him in consternation. “No, Din Djarin. We’ve come for you.”

Din blinked several times, trying to make sense of this. He glanced over at Cara, who shrugged at him in confusion. “I don’t understand. I’m only a foundling.”

“You are not merely a foundling,” she replied, shaking her head with a faint smile on her face. “You are a Mandalorian. One, I should point out, with a fearsome reputation all over the galaxy. Furthermore, we believe that your personal history presents a unique opportunity to unite tribes that have not been united in generations. We say the foundlings are the future. The future is now.”

Din was speechless. Being Mand’alor was the last thing he’d ever aspired to in life. He had a family, and a nice home, and no intention of leaving. But now half of the Council stood in front of his house, looking at him as if he were their only hope. He wanted to say that he’d think about it. He wanted to say he had to discuss it with his family. Instead he stood there, no words forthcoming. He felt Cara’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing it supportively.

Bo-Katan turned partly back to the other council members and gave them a nod. Together, they all fell to one knee, their right arms crossed across their chests and heads bent. Bo-Katan looked up at him.

“All hail the Mand’alor! May he reign with wisdom and strength. Oya manda!”

“Oya manda!”*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *An expression of Mandalorian solidarity and perpetuity  
> Their daughter's name means "night sky" in Mando'a
> 
> FYI, 15 years puts this roughly two to three years before the storm that destroys Luke's school and the alienation/departure of Ben Solo. 
> 
> OMG I can't believe it's finally done! Thank you so so much for coming on this crazy journey with me, and for all your comments and support throughout. It's been a long, unexpected road, and the story grew and grew way beyond my initial plans. I never intended for them to fight Gideon or get the Darksaber or go to Mandalore anything like that; at one point I was pretty sure they were going to settle down and Din was just going to be a farmer. I guess I kind of got there in the end, and then some!
> 
> I'm not done writing about these two. I can't be! I'm already working on more stories, and of course there's a good chance I'll come back to this series for more. You know, if people are interested. 😉
> 
> Thank you thank you again! I would love to hear from you about what you thought—about the end, about the story as a whole, whatever—even if it's just a short comment. Your words kept me going throughout and have made this experience so incredibly rewarding. The CaraDin community here is so supportive and I really wouldn't be here without you guys. Much love to you all!


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